Desperate Measures
by Ripki
Summary: A vicious storm. WW2 bunker full of drugs. A secret stash of money. And a boatload of smugglers wanting to have their share. Survival just became that much harder. SPOILER WARNING: Story is set in the season two.
1. Chapter 1: Storm is Coming

**Please read the following author's note:**

Hey all! Firstly, I hope you are going to enjoy the following story, which is meant to be quite long with many chapters. The story is also set in the end of the second season, so there will be spoilers for those of you, who haven't seen those episodes. (**If you don't want to know anything of it, TURN BACK NOW.**) For the purpose of the plot, the story is set in the timeline, when Daley and Nathan both know each other's feelings, and Melissa has confronted Jackson about Taylor. Abby has not made her second comeback yet. I have not yet decided how far I will take the romance, but there is definitely strong hints of pairings Melissa/Jackson and Daley/Nathan.

Also, as this story deals with drugs and the criminality related to it, I want to make absolute sure, that I personally think that using, selling and trafficking drugs are serious and dangerous criminal activities.

And lastly, I hope you will review all your opinions and suggestions to me. Every review is welcome and will help me write better! Thank you. And now, on with the story…

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**DESPERATE MEASURES**

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_Chapter 1: Storm is Coming_

Wind was picking up speed. It grabbed hold of the drying clothes, and sent them swinging wildly in their self-made clothesline. It also played with the mobile roof of their new shelter, but Daley was pleased to see that its structure seemed to hold against the sudden gusts of wind. It surprised her, how good she felt about their camp. She let her gaze go over everything they had scraped up together to resemble some kind of home: the new shelter designed by her brilliant little brother, the roaring fire they had succeed to create without any matches or lighter, the huge wreckage of the plane they had managed to drag from the beach. The plane was the centre of their camp now, as it was the centre of their lives here. They had been devastated, when the last storm had swept it away, along with half of their gear. The tide had brought it back to them later, and they had truly shown their survival skills by starting everything from scratch - again. Daley felt immensely proud, and not just about the camp, which she was certain could hold against another storm. She was also proud of them all; they had done all this together, managing to but all their misgivings and quarrels aside for the common good. She was confident that all their efforts had also brought them closer together, helped them to understand each other better.

She looked at the people gathered around the camp; Lex and Nathan were deep in some kind of discussion, and she grinned at the sight of the two of them together. Nathan was good with Lex, being earnest with him instead of patronizing. She was glad that also Jackson and Melissa seemed to get along well with Lex. At the moment though, they didn't seem to pay any heed to her brother, or anybody else for that matter. Daley frowned as she looked at the pair. Melissa was drawing circles to the ash around the fire with a stick, never raising her head from the ground. Jackson was sitting silently inside the shelter, his gaze avoiding both Melissa and Taylor. And Taylor was unusually tight lipped as well, having withdrawn inside the plane some time ago. What was going on with the three of them? Daley couldn't deny anymore the tension that had taken hold of the camp. She sighed. _And just as things were going so well. _Something had clearly happened between Melissa, Jackson and Taylor, something she had managed to miss. Why hadn't she seen this earlier? She was the elected leader, and it was her responsibility to keep everything going smoothly. It seemed that new relationship problems were already arising, just as she thought they had steered to clear waters on all fronts.

She felt herself blush, when she thought of her own relationship problems. They might have been solved, but it didn't make her feelings any easier to handle. She quickly glanced towards Nathan, who was still occupied with Lex. She admitted that lately she had been too involved with him to notice anything else. Ever since Melissa had blurted out that Nathan had feelings for her, she had been on an emotional rollercoaster ride. First trying to avoid the whole issue by avoiding him, then lying to him that she didn't feel the same way, and finally confessing that yes, she liked him. Of course she liked him. How could she not? Daley thought that they had both been relieved, when their true feelings were finally known, but also nervous as to where to go from there. She had told him that it would be wrong to do anything about it here, in this island, where the balance between all of them was so fragile and ready to break at any moment. And she had been right. One had to only look at the three sulking figures to realise that here relationships were a minefield, where you could not only blow yourself up, but the whole camp.

Speaking of blowing things up, where was Eric? Daley realised that she hadn't seen him for awhile, and a quick look confirmed that he was not in the camp or in the vicinity of it. She hoped he wasn't getting into any trouble. From the very beginning, Eric had made her feel annoyed and slightly uneasy. As she came to know him better, she realised that he could be charming and clever and funny and even occasionally do the right thing, but still the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach had stayed. Perhaps she felt that way, not because she didn't trust him, but because she couldn't control him. It irked her that he could do whatever came to his head, without a second thought. She had tried to ignore her own feelings, ashamed of feeling that way about one who was part of their group. And however surprising Eric could be, there was now a certain predictability in his actions. Right now, a safe bet was that he was in the bunker he had taken almost a morbid fascination with. Daley didn't even want to guess what he was doing in there; she hoped he hadn't gone crazy and started doing drugs. She couldn't fathom what was so great about the place. Personally, it gave her the creeps. She had not gone back there after the day they had found it, and sometimes she thought it would have been better, if they had not stumbled across it at all…

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It had been a week ago, and they had all been busy fixing their damaged camp, when Lex had run from the jungle screaming something incoherently. Daley's heart had almost stopped as she first thought that something had happened to her brother, who had left the camp earlier with Eric to collect material to their new shelter. Soon she had realised that Lex wasn't hurt or scared, but so exited that the normally so well spoken boy couldn't form an intelligent sentence.

"Easy Lex, take a breath. What's the matter?"

"Found - it was right there - come to see!"

The breathless boy had been so exited they had all thought that perhaps the rescuers had finally come, or the others had returned from their journey to the other side of the island. Their hopes had been soon dashed, when Lex had explained that he and Eric had found some old structure in the jungle, and he wanted them all to come see it. Curious, they had followed him. Lex had lead them about five kilometres to the south, where they had found Eric sitting at a fallen tree trunk, waiting for them. There was a little mound covered with vegetation, but other than that, there was nothing they hadn't seen before, just the familiar green tropical jungle.

"So where is it?" "Is this it?" "Eric what's going on?" "Did I walk here for nothing?"

"Patience people!" Eric had laughed and rounded the mound - and disappeared. Amazed, they had followed him and discovered that the mound was actually made of concrete, and formed a shelter that was partly inside the ground.

"What on earth is this?"

Lex, as usual, had had his answers ready. "It's an old second world war bunker. And there are still some things inside, look."

They had all crawled inside the murky bunker, where the air was surprisingly cool. Their skins had turned to gooseflesh.

"Yuck! This place is in need of some serious cleaning." Taylor had been right. The bunker was filled with moss, cobwebs and dead insects. Lex had picked up a rusty helmet, but had put it soon back. The place had a strange atmosphere, and they had felt that they were somehow intruding.

"Let's go outside." Daley had been ready to leave the place, when Lex's sharp eyes had made a new discovery.

"Look, there is a door!" And so there had been. Covered with an ivy like plant, the wooden door had been almost invisible. It had taken no great show of force to open it, as the wood was almost eaten away by mould. Carefully they had peaked into the darkness, and Jackson had been the first one to go through the door.

"It's ok, it's just another room." They had hesitantly followed his voice. The room had been in the same kind of condition as the first one, but there had been one big difference: it was not empty. In the far corner of the room, there had been a large dark shape. For a moment they had all been ready to bolt out of the door, but the shape hadn't moved, and finally Jackson had went to examine it. It had turned out to be just a plastic covering.

"What's under it?"

"Let's see." And Jackson had ripped the cover off, the rest of them peaking over his shoulder.

"What's that?" "I hope it's something eatable."

"I think…" Jackson hadn't finished his sentence, but had kept examining the brown packages, each of them the size of a brick, all neatly piled up against the wall.

"Do you know what they are?"

"Well, nothing we can eat that's for sure. I think they're drugs." There had been an astonished silence after Jackson's revelation.

"From the world war two?" Melissa had voiced the question they had been all thinking.

"Not likely. Which means someone has brought them here after it." Another silence as they had pondered the implications of that possibility. Further search of the room revealed empty tin cans, definitely from their era, and damp matches. Their moods had been lifted though, when they had discovered a half full canister of fuel oil.

"Someone has been using this place as a storage space for the drugs."

"What if they come back?" There had been fear in Lex's voice and Daley had quickly reassured him that whoever had left the drugs in the bunker, was not probably going back any time soon, if ever. "This place hasn't clearly been touched in years."

They had took the matches and the fuel canister, and had left everything else as it had been. Back in the sunshine and heat they had all felt better, more confident. They had left the bunker and got back to building their camp, and no one had talked about the drugs since.

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"Catch it!" Lex's voice pulled her from her reminiscence back to present time. A green fabric was spinning in the air, flying away from the camp. It took a moment for Daley to recognise it as her favourite shirt. She jumped to her feet, but Nathan was quicker; he was already up and running and soon had the shirt in his hands. She just had to grin.

"Here." Nathan handed the shirt back to her, smiling.

"Thanks for catching it. It's my favourite." Daley smiled; something was fluttering inside her.

"Yeah, I know." He was still smiling. _We are so pathetic. _Daley blushed and immediately felt furious with herself, thinking that they were giving everyone at the camp a good show. But as she glanced around her, she found that no one was watching their exchange. Lex was gathering the rest of the clothes from the clothesline, and the three others were still moping.

"The wind is getting stronger. The storm must be heading to our way." Nathan sounded worried and Daley turned back to face him.

"You're right. I just hope it's not as strong as the last one. We should start preparing for it." She was already thinking about all possible worst case scenarios they might have to deal with, when Nathan's voice reminded her about the missing member of their group.

"Should we go look for Eric?"

Daley was torn. She wanted to find him so they all could be together and she wouldn't have to worry, but on the other hand, she thought he probably would notice the change in the weather and head back to camp by himself. Before she could decide, Melissa's voice settled the matter.

"I'll go look for him." Melissa had risen from her sitting position and was looking at Daley.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, I could use a little walk before being cooped up inside the plane. Never know how long the storm will last." Melissa sounded eager to leave and Daley didn't want to stop her. Jackson had turned to look at them, but didn't say anything.

"Alright, but if you don't find him soon, come back." Daley watched as Melissa walked away from the camp. She felt anxious, but couldn't really understand why. Storms always passed, and she was certain that their camp could hold against the one coming. _But will we hold against it? _She didn't liked her thought.

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For the moment, Jason Cole was almost a happy man. They were nearing the island, and although the weather was fast turning to sour, Jin had assured him that they would be safely in the little bay before the storm could hit them with full force. He didn't doubt Jin's word; the man had been after all a fisherman all his life and knew these waters better than most men, which was the main reason he had once again hired Jin to this job. That, and the small fishing boat the man owned. The waves beat against the battered hull of the ship, and a view drops of water sprayed to his face. He didn't mind all the rocking and lurching motions, having gotten used to boating ever since he was little. No, he had always liked fast boats, and deep sea fishing was one of his favourite hobbies, when he could afford it. There had been a small lull in his hobby, for obvious reasons, but he intended to pick it up again soon, with a brand new, very fast boat. He grinned, but a furious yell behind him dampened his mood, reminding him why he was _almost _a happy man.

Larry clearly minded the motions of the boat, as the man staggered next to Cole, stumbling and cursing. The man looked seasick, and Cole had to repress the smirk that threatened to take over his face. Larry grabbed the railing with both hands, trying at the same time look as if he didn't mind the growing waves all around them.

"We're going to be caught in this storm!" He yelled, and Cole sighed. How many times did he have to say this?

"We will be in the island before that!"

"How do you know!"

"Because Jin says." Cole put a warning note to his voice. If Larry questioned one more time his or Jin's competence, the man would find out that they could very well do this without him. Miraculously, the man took the hint and let go of the topic. Cole was relieved, but it didn't change his mood. He had begun to regret hiring the man the minute they had left the harbour. It was not the fact that Larry had no sea legs or that he was seriously starting to annoy the rest of them; no, it was the fact that he didn't trust the man. Of course, he hadn't had many options. The people he had once worked with in this business had either died or got arrested while he had slaved his sentence in the prison. Only Jin had agreed to come on board, and as he really needed some muscle power, Larry, a guy who had gotten out at the same time he had, hadn't seemed a bad choice. Now Cole wished he had taken a little more time looking, and not settling on Larry, but he hadn't had the time to wait. No, he most certainly had no time to wait.

His arrest had been an unexpected event that had thrown all his fine plans into disarray. Cole had been forced to leave the drugs to the island, along with his other precious package. His bad luck had not ended there, for he had also owned a debt to some very dangerous people, and that debt had collected quite high interests from every month he had been behind bars. The only reason he was still walking was his assurances to his creditors that the debt would be paid in full, a week from his getting out of the prison. His consolation had been the knowledge that he really had the means to pay the debt off; the only thing he had to do, was to pick it up from its hiding place, and then he would be in clear waters, with still enough money to live nicely till the next gig. So far everything had gone smoothly, minus the issue with Larry, and Cole fully intended it to continue that way. The storm was a minor inconvenience that they could weather on the island. Cole welt his good mood return. Whatever could go wrong?

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_I hope you enjoyed! Please review what you thought of it. Is it worth continuing? _

_In the next chapter we see what Eric is doing, and what Jackson is really thinking, also our band of thugs set their foot on the island…_


	2. Chapter 2: Startling Discoveries

_Chapter 2: Startling Discoveries_

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Sometimes, Eric felt almost guilty. For the lighter he had hidden that as a result had gotten wet and stopped working. _But I fixed it. _For the stuff he had borrowed from the camp in secret, when he had planned to take off to find the others. _I put those back. _For helping Taylor to turn Melissa's secret crush to a very public one. _It was a good joke - and in the end we helped her to spill the beans. _And now, he almost felt guilty about the white plastic bag he had found from the bunker and had took without telling the others. But really, what any of them would do with money on the island anyways? It wasn't as they could buy food or clothes or plane tickets out of here. So what if he had a little secret of his own? Everyone else as sure as hell had theirs.

It was a whole lot of money. Eric had never seen so much money in one place, except in television. He hadn't attempted to count it yet. That would actually mean doing something with the several neat rolls of American dollars, and he wasn't quite ready for that. For the moment, he just wanted to look at the bills. It was still hard to believe, what he had found. Who could have guessed that under the soldier's helmet, in a shallow grave, was a fortune? Well, the drugs they had found, had kind of hinted that the place was much more than a rusty old memory from war, but still, a buried plastic bag full of money?

Eric grinned; he felt like laughing out loud.

It was good luck that Lex had took that helmet; if he hadn't moved it, Eric wouldn't had noticed the slight lump in the ground. He didn't really know why he hadn't said anything to the others at the time. After all, it had been just a lump in the ground. But everyone had been marvelling Lex, as if the kid had found the bunker on his own, when in fact it had been Eric himself, who had sighted the structure first. And then Lex had pointed the door, and then they had found the drugs, which had really took his mind of from everything else. Now he was glad he hadn't said anything, for when a view days ago the others had started to bitch about a thing or another, and he had escaped from the camp, his feet had took him to the bunker, where the treasure had waited him. A just reward for all he had had to suffer. And didn't they say a finder was a keeper?

He had took the bag from it's original hiding place, for although he doubted that others would come back to the bunker, he really didn't want to take a risk that by some miracle they would find his treasure. Of course the most stupidest thing would have been to take it back to camp, so he had searched hard for a good place, which would be near enough for him to walk, but out of the way of their daily routines. He had had to settle to a small clearing near the bunker, surrounded by the thick jungle. Classic really, but he had buried the bag under a crooked dead tree, certain he could find the place with his eyes closed if he had to.

Eric once again looked inside the bag and admired the green bills. He could have everything he had ever wanted with this money. His family could move to a better house; his father could stop working so hard and could spend more time at home. They could go to some fancy holiday, all of them together. Maybe to Greece or Italy or to some really exotic place in South America. Definitely no trips to Hawaii or anywhere near where he was now, wherever that was. Of course, first he had to get off this damned island, but he was certain that it would happen soon enough. It really _had to happen _soon, for as the days - weeks! - went by, everything became less certain, less real, and he felt a little nearer to a day, when he couldn't take it anymore, but would wreaking swim out of this place, if he had to.

A sudden noise threw him out of his thoughts, and hastily he moved to cover the bag. Had someone found him? Eric stilled and listened, heart beating a little faster, his mind already making out excuses for his presence in the clearing. Nothing moved in the jungle, but the wind, which really was tearing the leaves with a vengeance. For the first time Eric noticed that the weather had worsened. He looked one last time longingly at his money and then swiftly but the bag back to its hole, carefully covering it up with soil.

_What WAS that?_

Eric was on full alert now; he had definitely heard a human voice from the jungle, but strangely it didn't sound like anyone from their group.

_Again! Definitely a yell. _Heart bounding, he started to head into the direction of the sound, forgetting his treasure, the weather, all he had thought of before, his mind racing with only one thought, _God, let it be rescue! _

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_What a mess! _Jackson felt tired, although he hadn't really done anything else for the past hour, but had tried to avoid both Melissa and Taylor. He was smart enough to recognise that _that _was the problem. He was tired of looking anywhere but towards them, all the time conscious of the silent wall of hurt and confusion between them.

_And who's fault is that? _

Somehow, everything had spiralled to this point so fast, and all he had managed to do had been to watch in amazement as the calm acceptance and tentative friendships he had had with the girls had mutated to something much more complicated. Unfortunately, that something with Taylor had been in straight crash course with the something he had with Melissa.

_And who's fault is that?_

He tried to construct the events into some kind of sequence, examining his own actions. First, there had been Mel, who had tried really hard to get to know him, and had even gotten him to this amazing trip to Palau that had gotten a little sidetracked from the actual trip plan. He had appreciated the effort, he really had, but not enough to break the carefully constructed walls around him and to make an effort to be friends with her. The crash had of course changed all that; he had had to interact with the others, and once again Melissa had been the one to make the first steps towards his direction. Then had come the revelation he had already guessed; Mel had a crush on him. By that point he had already liked her, had seen her as his only friend on the island, and he hadn't wanted to mess that up, or drive her away. Thus game the no-relationships-on-the-island-rule, which was how realistic really? He had just wanted to keep things simple, the way they were, between them. _And that had really worked so well - but who's fault is that?_

He was not sure when it had happened; in truth there had been no one moment, but gradually, as time went by, he had been thrown together with Taylor more often. He had always suspected that there was more to the blonde girl than her rich bitch front, and he had been right: Taylor had revealed surprising new aspects of herself, and had gotten Jackson to open up hesitantly. He figured that at first it had been a quest for a little security on her part; Taylor really hadn't anyone on the island that she could turn to, who could assure her that things were going to be alright, without dismissing her fears as self-centred and silly. He had first tolerated her company, then he had felt comfortable in it; finally he had considered them to be friends. _And then came the guilt. _

Melissa had apparently seen the two of them together, although it had been mostly, if not perfectly, innocent. Their mood had been down, they had wondered if the rescue would ever come, and somehow Taylor's head had come to rest on his shoulder, and his forehead had come to touch hers. Mel had confronted Jackson later, and things had heated up. He had acted like he didn't know what she was talking about, only to get the scathing "I'm not stupid" response from her. Denial had clearly been out of the question, so he had tried to act the thing down. After all, it wasn't a big deal; it was nothing. She hadn't bought that. Lastly, he had resorted to the _This is not fair - _line, which she had counteracted with simple honesty.

_I'm not telling you how to feel; I'm asking you to be honest_, she had said. He had left her without a word.

Since then, there had been nothing but silence and avoided looks, and it was seriously starting to frustrate the hell out of him. He had had all the time to brood over the whole issue, to think and rethink, and to feel all the guilt and shame descent upon him. He knew his response to Mel's honesty had been shoddy, and that she had deserved much more from him. She had defended him, when no one else had, she had even took care of him, when he had been sick from the unboiled water; she had done as he had asked, and had pushed her crush to the side, agreeing to be just a friend to him. And for all her troubles she had gotten to watch as he grew close to someone else.

_I'm asking you to be honest. I'm not telling you how to feel._

But the trouble was, he didn't know how he felt; and it was making it hard to be fully honest even with himself. Why he felt closeness with Taylor? What did he really feel for Mel? And what did he want with either of the girls? Jackson knew he had to find the answers to these questions and soon, or he risked losing both of his friends.

He finished his task of securing the tent and looked around the camp. They had done good job of preparing it for the coming storm, but it didn't make him feel any better. Dark clouds were visible in the distance, far above the sea, and moving closer to the island every second, but Melissa and Eric hadn't still come back. He knew they had some time before the worst of the storm would hit, and Mel hadn't left that long ago, so she was probably still looking for their missing black sheep, but still the worry swirled inside him. Even more pressing was the knowledge that he had to resolve their argument somehow, to say something to her to make it all better. Jackson wasn't a talkative guy, but suddenly he couldn't bare the thought of another day of silence between them. And really, what the hell he was doing here in the camp, feeling sorry for himself? He had to find her.

Jackson left the camp with a single short announcement of where he was going, ignoring Daley's protests. He would find Mel, and he would make whatever was between them alright again. For it really was all his fault.

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Jin had lived long enough to learn that things rarely went according to plan, and that when they didn't, it was generally futile to rage against the fate that wanted to step from the marked path. All one could do, was to go with the flow, adapting oneself to the new situation and then turn to the first exit out as soon as possible. That is, if there were any exits.

The storm hadn't surprised him; he had smelled it in the air the moment he had woken up that morning. There hadn't been any reason to tell that to Cole though, and try to change their plan; Jin was fairly certain that the man would have left anyway. People, who had that kind of desperate look in their eyes, usually went straight ahead, blindly towards their goal. No, nothing short of a hurricane warning wouldn't have stopped Cole from leaving the port. Jin hadn't been worried; storms he could handle, evade, ride through. Luck and skill had been on his side, and he had steered his fishing boat safely to the little bay before the storm could catch them. He had secured the boat carefully, confident that it would weather the storm without any major damages. So far, everything had gone according to the plan; even Larry had done his share of the work without trying to backstab them.

They had walked to the bunker; the drugs had been where Cole had left them. For a brief moment Jin had felt that everything would be fine; he would get his share, and he could finally give his family what they so desperately needed. That feeling of relief had been totally premature, and Jin grimaced for his own stupidity: he should know better than to tempt the fate! For of course, nothing had since gone according to the plan.

First, Cole's mood had changed rapidly from content to worry and downright anger. Reason for that had been the fact that someone had clearly been in the bunker; Cole claimed that things had been touched, and a fuel oil canister was missing. They couldn't figure why anyone had left the drugs in place; maybe they had gone to alert the authorities? But if that were so, why take the canister? For the first time Jin had actually agreed with Larry, when the man had acclaimed, _Who cares why? _The most important thing was that the drugs where still there, and they would have to move them quickly out of the island. Cole's mood had not improved, but he had agreed with them. They had quickly moved back towards the boat, determined to get as much done as possible before the storm would hit with full force.

_Nothing had gone according to that new plan either. _

Fate really had a twisted sense of humour, for they had discovered that the intruder of the bunker was still in the island; and he certainly was nothing they had expected to see.

"HEY!" The shout had caught them unawares and had badly startled them; they had all turned towards the sound ready to fight or to run. Cole's and Larry's hands had went to their concealed handguns, but Jin had kept his hands away from his; he preferred not to get shot by cops, who usually shot armed men first and asked questions later.

It hadn't been cops, or any kind of authorities, though. It had been a boy. A white teenager, speaking clear English, or more accurately, _yelling and stumbling over words, _in English.

"Hey! Hey! Help! We need help- don't leave!" The boy had desperately stumbled towards them; they had watched him still amazed, but a lot less alarmed. He was just a kid, and clearly in distress.

"Our plane crashed - the flight 29 DWN - but we survived and there's no one here on this island but us and no one has come looking for us - thank God you're here." The words had given them some kind of picture of the situation, making them feel they were back on control.

Cole had taken the lead. "Slow down kid. How many of you are there?"

"Do you have a boat? A plane? Some kind of radio that we can call for help?" The kid had reached them, breathless and exited.

"Are you alone?" Cole's question had finally gotten through the boy, who had nodded his head vigorously. "The other's are back on our camp. They will not believe this - man, I can't believe this!"

"And you are stranded, and you have no radio or other communication systems?"

"We had, but there was this storm and it took our plane - actually we got it back later, but the radio was smashed - not that it had worked earlier, but we tried-"

"And the plane's captain?"

"He left with three students to search the island, but that was almost three weeks ago, and we are kind of desperate-"

"With students? So the rest of the adults stayed in the camp?"

"No, there's just us, we are all students from the Hartwell School of Los Angeles." By that time, the kid had calmed down and had started to ask questions. "What are you doing here? Are there more people somewhere? You are going to get us out of here, right?"

Cole had smiled that cold smile of his, saying almost apologetically, "I'm afraid that is not part of our plan."

"But - but you have to help us!"

"Sorry kid. We are not the local charity." The poor kid had finally understood what they were, when he had caught sight of Cole's weapon under the man's shirt. All colour had drained from his face; he had started to back away from them, when Cole had drawn the gun, pointing it towards the kid.

"Running away isn't an option. I suggest you do as I say, and I don't have to fire this thing."

"Ok, I'll do as you say, just…no shooting alright?"

"Good boy. I think we'll meet the rest of the unfortunate band of survivors. Lead the way." The boy had paled even more, if possible, when he had heard Cole's words, but he had started to walk without protest.

_And here we are. _Jin followed behind the others, feeling uneasy about the sudden new direction this odd situation had taken them. He hoped things would go smoothly, without any violence. _What are the odds for that? _Jin shook his head; he didn't want to know.

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What is going to happen? Will the thugs get to the camp? Is Jackson going to find Melissa? And what is he going to say to her when he does?

All this in next chapter! Please review, your opinions are appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3: Confusion and Fear

_Chapter 3: Confusion and Fear_

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_It's quite beautiful here. Almost peaceful. _She was surrounded by different shades of green, rustling in the wind. Like the sea. If Melissa closed her eyes and concentrated, she could hear the roaring sea, behind the green curtain of the tropical jungle.

After having escaped the tense atmosphere of the camp, she had trod along the beach for awhile, then she had headed almost unconsciously towards the old bunker. Although it wasn't that far from the campsite, Melissa had not reached it, nor had she found Eric. In truth, she hadn't searched for him that hard and had in fact stopped some time ago. She wasn't too worried about him; if someone in the island knew how to best act to his own interest, it was definitely Eric. And Jackson. Her throat felt tight.

_It's not his fault that he doesn't like me. _

The more Melissa thought about the current situation, the madder she became to herself. How in earth's name had she ever thought that someone like Jackson could ever fancy her? She had been a fool; practically throwing herself to him, hoping that once they got back home, things were going to be different. Now it seemed that they would never get back home, and even if they did, things had already changed and not for the direction she had wanted.

Jackson and _Taylor_? The thought of them together made her stomach knot; made her feel nauseous. Melissa wondered, if it would have hurt as much if Jackson had chosen to fall for Daley. Melissa had always seen Taylor as self-centred and spoiled; perhaps not outright malicious, but certainly thoughtless towards the feelings of others. _And this just proves that. _Taylor had known perfectly well what Melissa felt for Jackson, and still the other girl had purposely gotten close to him. Melissa felt she had been deceived.

_They made me look like a fool. _

Melissa leaned back into a palm tree and closed her eyes. _Damned if I'll cry over this. _The bark was rough against her back, and the wind was trying to tear down her hair from its bun; she felt a twist of hair in her face. Faintly, she could hear the sea. Her throat was still tight; she breathed deep, trying to force the tears back. She would most certainly not cry over this.

_He could have told me. _

Some part of her wanted to blame him; to rage against Jackson for not telling her about Taylor, for letting her to believe that something could happen between them. Why had he not told her? Melissa didn't think that courage had been an issue; maybe she was still blind towards him, but certainly Jackson had more courage than anyone else in the island. She couldn't also believe that he wouldn't care enough of her to tell her the truth; he was not heartless or thoughtless. The only reason she could think of was that he had felt sorry for her, and had not wanted to crash her fantasies, deciding instead to indulge them. That thought only made her feel worse; like she was some pathetic creature, whom he pitied.

_God, please, do not let him pity me._

She didn't know what he thought of her anymore. Melissa was certain that although Jackson had not been straightforward with her, they really had been friends before. She hoped the angry words they had exchanged wouldn't break that friendship. Suddenly Melissa felt a new kind of fear take hold of her: what if their friendship really was finished? Daley and Nathan were too involved with each other to take notice of anything else, Lex was just a kid, and there was no way Eric or Taylor would become her confidant. She would be utterly alone without Jackson.

_I just want things to go back to the way they were before. _

But that was quite impossible. She had already seen the two of them together, so close to each other, heads and arms touching. She ached all over remembering it, knowing that Taylor had gotten what she herself had for so long wanted. Melissa felt herself blush, when she recalled all she had dreamed about.

"Hey."

Melissa startled; she jumped, heart pounding, the familiar voice coming right behind her ear. Slowly she turned, trying to will down the blush on her cheeks.

"I didn't mean to sneak upon you." Jackson stood next to the palm tree she had been leaning against, an apologetic smile in his lips.

_He is speaking to me. _After all the silence between them, she felt relieved and frightened at the same time. Melissa knew that the moment had come: they would have to solve whatever was between them, or they would feel uncomfortable around each other for ever. In an instant, the situation had become heavy with the knowledge how much was in stake.

"Hey." She barely got the word out of her mouth.

Silence fell over them; Jackson stood looking at her, uncertainty written all over him. Melissa felt desperation starting to take hold of her. She willed herself to speak. "It's ok. I'm not mad at you."

Jackson lowered his eyes to the ground, then raised them quickly towards her again. She had let the cat out of the bag, again, when he hadn't known where to start.

"You should be angry at me. I wouldn't blame you, if you didn't want to speak to me ever again."

Melissa shook her head; his mere voice had already managed to dispel whatever anger she had still felt towards him. "I'm glad we are speaking."

"You were right, I should have been honest with you." Jackson's gaze was intense, and Melissa fought the urge to turn her eyes away from him.

"And I am sorry for leaving things to be…so tense between us." She didn't say anything, just waited for Jackson to continue.

He seemed to collect his thoughts, to search for the right way to begin.

"The truth is, I don't know what is between us, or between me and Taylor. This whole situation…"

"What do you mean?" Melissa was now confused. How could he not know what he felt?

Jackson's voice was frustrated. "I mean that we are stuck here, on this island, the seven of us. And of course relationships are born and developed between all of us, because we all need security and comfort to survive here. And I don't think that should be a bad thing."

"You mean we have very limited choice of people..…to be friends with."

"Yes - no, I am not saying that I am being your friend because there is no one else. I mean that this is a very small circle we have here. Kind of twisted mini society. And living with so close with each other, it's inevitable that people just…react and connect."

Melissa sighed. She understood what Jackson was speaking about, knew it to be true, but still couldn't help but feel a little bit annoyed that he dismissed his feelings so easily.

"So you connected with Taylor?"

"Yeah. We started talking, and after awhile we just understood each other better."

Melissa felt a bang in her heart. _If you had talked to me, I could perhaps understand you a little better. _

"What you saw…it was just two people searching comfort from each other." Jackson was looking at her carefully, trying to read her face.

"So you have started to like her…you don't have to apologise for that. I get that. It's alright. It's like you said - people can't really help what they feel." Melissa tried to keep her voice strong; she plunged on. "Just because I like you, doesn't mean you have to feel the same way." _There, I said it. _

"But I do. You're my best friend here Mel." He was watching her growing confusion with an amused and fond smile.

"But - let me get this straight." She was trying to organise all she had heard to a rational explanation. "You're friends with me and now with Taylor. You like me - and you like her, but still you don't really know what you feel."

"That's about right." Jackson's voice told her that he knew very well that the situation was still more than complicated, but that he really couldn't offer her anything else. She had asked for the truth after all.

They looked at each other, feeling they had reached a stalemate. Where to go from here?

"But does all this really matter?" His question took her by surprise.

"What are you saying?"

"We are so caught up in all this drama, these relationships that we lose focus of the real problem." Once again, Jackson's face looked frustrated, his whole body tense. "We should be thinking how to get of this island, how to get back home."

Melissa wanted to say that all this really did matter, but she also understood where he was getting at. The big issue, the question looming over their heads, would always be of rescue, never of who's with whom.

"Things can't go on like this for much longer." His voice was firm.

Melissa felt suddenly uneasy and worried; not because of the words themselves, for they were true, but the way he said them. Like he would be willing to take matters into his own hands; to actually do something -anything- to get them back home. She suspected that Jackson took their isolation in the island as badly as everyone else; he just had put up a better front at coping with it.

"What do you think we should do?" Melissa's question held an anxious note on it. They had finally learned to work as a group; she was afraid that rocking the boat too much would plunge them all to deep waters.

Jackson sighed. "I don't know. We should at least try to build a more durable raft, and maybe - maybe some of us should leave and try to get to the other side of the island."

Splitting the group in half was the last thing Melissa wanted. "I think we still have time before…things get that desperate."

Jackson looked as if he might disagree, but all he said was, "The storm is getting closer, we should head back to camp."

Melissa decided to drop the issue; she didn't want another thing for them to argue over. She followed Jackson as he started to walk towards the beach, noticing that the dark clouds were covering the bright sky with alarming speed. She had been too caught up in their conversation to pay attention to the changes in the weather; the wind was definitely stronger, tearing her hair and clothes, and the temperature had clearly dropped. Melissa shivered in her t-shirt, having left her jacket back to camp. The sooner they got to shelter, the better.

They were just stepping from the jungle to the beach, the ocean's roar increasing its volume, when Jackson stopped so suddenly that Melissa almost bumped into his back. Before she had any time to react, Jackson grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back to the obscure undergrowth.

"What-"

"Quiet." Jackson interrupted, a finger against his lips. Melissa managed to obey in spite of her growing curiosity. What were they hiding from?

Jackson knelt behind a bush, dragging her beside him. He motioned her to look to the beach.

_What the - O My God!_

Jackson's hand in her arm was the only thing stopping Melissa from rushing headlong to the beach, where four figures walked towards the camp. She had recognised Eric immediately, but the other three she didn't know. They were _strangers_! Had the rescue come at last? She couldn't understand what Jackson was doing, hiding out of the sight of the group in the beach.

That is, not until he pointed towards the men and whispered, "Guns".

For a small moment that felt like eternity, Melissa could hardly think. The heart in her chest seemed to beat louder and faster, but the air was stuck in her lungs, unable to get out. She took another look at the situation in the beach, but couldn't make any sense of it; it felt foreign, completely alien to their life at the island.

She knew this much though: it was horribly, utterly, wrong.

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_This is like crashing all over again._

Eric felt sick to his stomach; a bitter pile was rising in his throat. He remembered the vigorous beating and shaking of the plane; the freefalling, the deep horrifying plummeting into the unknown. He couldn't decide, if it had been worse than the small black gun that was now being pointed to his back.

He was walking towards the camp, the three men right behind him. The men he had thought were bringing rescue, not - whatever they were instead bringing.

_Maybe they are not bringing anything - but taking. _

Eric gagged, when the wind swirled sand straight into his mouth; the pile was rising and he closed his eyes briefly, trying to push it back down, only to almost stumble over his own feet. He straightened himself quickly, continuing to walk along the beach. The camp was getting nearer.

_Please, do not be there._

But Eric knew it was a futile hope; with the storm approaching, everyone was surely back in camp, huddling together in their tent. For a moment he considered yelling a warning to them, but dismissed the idea quickly. They would not hear him, the wind's howl would cover his voice, until they were right in the camp and then it would be too late. And besides, he really didn't want to get shot.

And who knew, maybe things would work out. Maybe the armed men wouldn't do anything to them, but would let them be, once the men had seen that they were completely harmless. Maybe the thugs would just look at the camp and then leave. Perhaps all the men wanted was some food and there they had certainly come to the right place; no one in the whole island had as good fish and coconut as they had. Eric felt an odd, almost hysterical laugh starting to bubble in his chest.

_Oh yeah, and maybe they'll tell us all of this is just a huge mistake and they'll take us back to Hawaii and give us a satellite phone to call home. _

Eric swallowed back a sob, concentrating on the pace of his feet. He could see the outlines of the camp; the plane and the shelter circling the small clearing where they had built their fireplace. He almost stopped.

It had felt like an eternity before the shaking plane had crashed to the ground, the metal shrieking and tearing all around him. It took only a moment though, for them to reach the camp; only a moment to step into their self-made shelter; only a moment to register the confused and fearful looks they were getting.

Behind him, Eric heard an amused voice of a man.

"Home sweet home, eh?"

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_That's all for now! Please review what you thought - do the characters seem plausible? _

_I try to update at least once in a week, so next week brings: Jackson and Melissa try to figure out what is happening and what they should do, and someone in the camp cannot believe all this is really happening…_


	4. Chapter 4: Towards Unknown

**Author's note: **Huge thanks to everyone for their reviews! Unfortunately I haven't been able to answer all of them personally, since there was a problem with my connection to this site. Your reviews gave me an inspiration to write a little quicker, so here comes the chapter four…

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_Chapter 4: Towards Unknown_

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Jackson's mind was working furiously, thinking and rejecting and rethinking the situation; what had happened, what probably would happen; what they knew and didn't know; and most importantly, what they could do. The instant he had seen the armed men, he had known that they meant serious trouble. It had not been too hard to figure out what had happened.

_Drugs plus guns equals criminals._

Criminals, who probably wouldn't be that interested in the plight of some plane crash survivors; criminals, who most likely wouldn't be all that thrilled to have suddenly witnesses to their criminal activities. Criminals, who were at that exact moment walking towards their camp.

"We have to warn the others - Jackson, they don't know - they'll be-" Melissa sounded agitated; she was standing against a group of thick bushes, looking towards the beach that wasn't visible through the green jungle. They had retreated back to the sheltering forest, afraid that they could be seen.

"I know but - they are too far ahead of us. They'll get there before we can do anything."

"But we have to do something!"

"I know - I…let's just think this through." Frustration was starting to take hold of him; Jackson felt helpless and useless and hated it. He had to do something. He tried hard to act calm and controlled, for Melissa was clearly panicking, and it wouldn't help a bit if he were to join her.

"Who are they? What are they going to do? Do you think-" But Melissa couldn't finish her sentence, clearly thinking about all the awful things the men might be planning to do to their friends.

Jackson quickly tried to reassure her. "They just probably came to get the drugs from the bunker, and Eric bumped into them, and with this storm - they are just going to take shelter in the camp."

"They'll leave when the storm is over, and when they get the drugs. Right?" She sounded heartbreakingly doubtful and hopeful at the same time.

"Right." But Jackson didn't tell her that not always everything went according to plan (although the plane crash had kind of proven that already), and that sometimes people did things that didn't make any sense (he had demonstrated that repeatedly), and criminals were notorious for not being reliable to do the sensible thing.

"So…what should we do now?" Melissa was looking at him like he had all the answers. For a brief moment, he detested the way everything remotely criminal was always linked to him; as if he had an extensive experience in those matters. Despite what the others thought, he hadn't had much to do with Los Angeles' criminal life. He had always been a loner and frankly, too intelligent to get involved with the gangs that dominated his old neighbourhood. Sure, some of the things he had done had been against the law, and he wasn't particularly proud of it, but he had never had any doings with drugs or real, gun toting criminals.

But then he recognised the look in her eyes; the look that told of all the faith she had in him. Jackson felt ashamed of himself; he had misjudged her again. For some reason unfathomable, she believed in him.

_And that scares the hell out of me. _

He couldn't let her down; he had to think of something they could do to help the others and to keep themselves safe.

"Jackson?"

"We hide." It was a bitter pill to swallow, but in the end, hiding would be the only sensible thing to do. Rushing into the camp would not accomplish anything, but get them to the same mess with the others; doing something to the drugs, maybe hiding them or trying to bargain with them, would not only be stupid but also dangerous. Maybe if he had been by himself, he could have thought of something…but Jackson was loathe to lead Melissa into any kind of danger.

When he looked at her frightened face, took in her trembling form, he decided that he had to make sure that nothing bad happened to her; that they would somehow get through this unscathed.

"Hide - but…what about Daley and Lex and Nathan? And Taylor and Eric? They are there with those - those men, and what if something - if something happens to them and we-" Melissa's voice was alarmed; her eyes pleading.

"Hey, it's going to be alright." He moved right beside her, not breaking the eye contact. Almost hesitantly he put his hands to her arms, holding her fidgety body gently in place.

"We're going to take shelter from the storm, hiding so that they cannot find us; and we'll think of something to help the others."

He could feel her body relax a bit as her breathing became more even.

"And Nathan and Daley - they are all resourceful, hell, Lex is practically a genius, and Eric can get out of any mess. They'll be fine." Although Jackson sounded confident, he felt nowhere near as certain as his words suggested. The small watery smile on Melissa's lips told him that he hadn't fooled her either.

"Thanks." The fear was still in her eyes, but there was also a new calm acceptance.

"For what?" He hadn't actually done anything; all he had been able to do was to go into hiding.

"Just for being here, trying to make this better."

"Well, we're on this together, and we'll get through this - together." Only when he spoke the words, did Jackson realise the truth in it. The rustling jungle hid the two of them, sheltering them from whatever was happening back in the camp. There was no one they could call for help; no one they could depend upon but themselves. The first priority once again was surviving; waiting and hiding, making sure that they wouldn't be caught by the criminals.

For now, the others were on their own.

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When Nathan had woken up that morning he had felt pretty good about life in general; they had food and water, their new shelter was just as good as Lex had designed it to be, and Daley still liked him. The only hitch had been the fact that they were on a deserted island, but otherwise, the day had set out to be a fairly good day. That is, until three armed men had walked into their camp, holding Eric hostage.

_This is not happening._

It felt so unfair; hadn't there been enough trials and obstacles for them already? Nathan still had trouble grasping the whole situation; the sudden violent change to their everyday life at the island seemed surreal. Just a moment ago, he had been stressing over the coming storm, now the weather was the last thing on his mind.

"You have it real cosy here, I'm impressed." The man was standing in the middle of the camp, looking appraisingly over everything. Although he seemed to be the youngest of the three, Nathan was sure he was the leader; the man moved ahead of the others, talked a lot and generally behaved like he owned the entire island.

No one said a word. They were all huddled against the side of the plane; Daley had grabbed Lex to her the moment she had realised what was happening, and Nathan had quickly moved to cover them. Taylor stood beside him, unnaturally quiet and withdrawn, and an anxious Eric had joined them silently, an apologetic look in his eyes.

_I have to keep them safe._

He felt the responsibility descend heavily upon him; felt the awful pressure to keep everyone safe press on his mind, to the point where he was ready to start panicking.

He didn't question why he felt that the task of protecting them all fell on him; it was just the way it was. Jackson was not in the camp, a fact that made Nathan relieved and disappointed at the same time; he didn't trust Eric to protect anyone else but himself, after all he had led these men straight to their camp; Lex was just a kid, and Daley and Taylor were - well, girls. All too briefly Nathan felt a warm amusement, when he thought the few chosen words Daley would dish out to him, if she heard that particular thought. He knew from experience that Daley was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, but still, there just was no way he would let anything happen to her…

_I have to keep her safe._

"You are a quiet bunch. One would think that after three weeks by yourself, you would be just dying to make some new friends." The leader's grin was smug.

_Bastard._

The two other crooks didn't look that amused either. The oldest, a small Asian man with a wrinkled skin, had not said a word. He stood a few paces behind the leader, his face impassive.

The third man was the largest; his broad shoulders and small, piercing eyes made Nathan uneasy. The man had first looked at the camp with interest, examining the structure of their shelter, but had soon settled himself against the nearest palm tree, clearly bored.

"Larry, why don't you search the camp?" It was clear from the leader's voice that it wasn't a request.

"Search for what?" The broad shouldered man, who evidently was Larry, didn't sound too pleased.

"Anything that might be of use." The leader had a long suffering look on his face; like he had to explain a perfectly self-evident matter to a child.

Slowly Larry straightened himself and stretched out his arms, like he had just woken from a nap. Nathan was sure that he could see a vein starting to throb in the leader's forehead. As Larry finally moved to the shelter and started going through their things - Nathan winced when the man's dirty hands went to their first-aid kit -, the leader once again turned his attention to the miserable group by the plane.

"Alright, this is how things are going to be: You'll do what I say you to do, and everything will go smoothly, without any trouble."

Behind the leader, Nathan could see that Larry had sunk his hands into their food container; the man grasped a banana and started to peel it. Nathan hastily glanced at Daley, hoping she wouldn't start to protest. She seemed irked, but was holding her tongue.

"They have food - well, bananas and coconuts anyway." Larry munched the fruit as he moved towards the tent.

"Good, as we forgot our own snack, I'm sure you don't mind if we share." The leader's face told them that he knew very well that they _did _mind.

"What do you want?" Taylor's dispirited question took them all by surprise. She looked desolate and small; horribly out of place, and Nathan felt a surge of protective feelings towards her.

"Well darling, for start, I want you to answer some very simple questions." The leader's eyes narrowed. "Are there any more people here on this island?"

Before Nathan had even time to think about an answer, Daley had already said "No". Her voice held a small tremble, otherwise it was strong and clear.

"No?" The leader looked at them sceptically, lips in a thin line.

Nathan's heart started to pound. He had hoped -as clearly Daley had too- that they could keep Jackson's and Melissa's existence a secret, but if they already knew-

"The others left to the other side of the island weeks ago, as I said. We do not know what has happened to them, if- if they even are alive anymore." Eric's voice was rushed, but otherwise completely believable. The leader looked at them for a long moment, but didn't question them further on the matter. Nathan had never been so grateful for Eric's ability to lie convincingly.

He could see Larry's shape moving inside their tent, and his heart started to beat again faster. _Please, do not let him count the backpags! _But luck was for once on their side, and Larry emerged from the tent without a comment.

"Boss." Nathan had been too focused on following Larry's every move to notice that the Asian man had quietly moved behind the shelter; the man was now coming back towards the leader, holding a canister in his hands. _The_ fuel oil canister they had took from the bunker. _F-ck._

"Well, well. I believe this belongs to me." The leader looked at the canister, a satisfied grin in his lips that disappeared the instance he turned his piercing eyes back towards them. "Which brings me to my next question: what else do you have that belongs to me?"

"Nothing." Nathan forced himself to speak, trying to hold his voice steady. "We didn't touch…anything else, I swear."

For a moment, something unpleasant, something all too disturbing flickered on the man's clean-shaven face; just a moment and then it was gone, leaving Nathan to wonder had he really seen it at all.

"You know - drugs are dangerous stuff. You don't want to get involved in them."

"We left the drugs in the bunker - just as they were. You can go and check." Daley's voice sounded almost challenging.

"I did that honey. Without the storm we would be already moving the load of this island. Weather can be such a bitch, don't you agree?" As on cue, something wet landed on Nathan's forehead; it had started to rain.

Only seconds later there was a deafening clap of thunder, and he couldn't help flinching.

"Move inside the plane." When no one moved immediately, the leader pointed the gun almost carelessly towards the plane. "Or do you want to get wet?"

He nudged Taylor, who stepped inside the plane looking dazed and overwhelmed, Eric fast on her heels. Nathan beckoned Daley to follow the two, and she did so, giving him a look that was at the same time worried and encouraging. She was still holding Lex's hand; the boy was pressed to his sister's side, taking in everything with his intelligent eyes. Nathan knew Lex understood fully the seriousness of the situation, and he could tell the boy was afraid. He wanted to reassure Lex and the others; hell, he wanted to reassure himself that everything would be alright.

_But everything is not alright - and I don't know if it ever will be._

They crammed inside the plane, trying to get as far to the rear as possible, as it became clear that the thugs were joining them.

A lightning flashed, and a thunder rumbled, but the weather didn't present any pressing danger to Nathan anymore. No, that was reserved for the men, who seated themselves to the floor of the plane, near to the only exit. He felt a sudden rush of anger; just when they had started to feel safe in their self-made camp, their _home _really, these criminals had took that away by marching here with their guns and holding them prisoners. Forcing them inside this plane; forcing them to sit here, silent and so very afraid.

He reached for Daley's free hand and squeezed it, letting her know that he was there for her. She squeezed his hand back and didn't let go of it.

_I have to keep her - everyone - safe._

The trouble was, he didn't have any idea how in the world he would manage that.

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_Poor boys, things aren't going to be any easier for them any time soon…_

_Please review - what you thought of the dialogue? I always struggle with it, feeling it doesn't sound right._

_Next week, Cole is definitely NOT a happy man, and finally the storm hits hard - especially on those two, who have no nice plane to shelter them (although somehow I feel they wouldn't trade places with the people in it!)._


	5. Chapter 5: No End in Sight

_Chapter 5: No end in sight_

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Melissa couldn't decide, if this was the most terrible day of her life. The plane crash had held that title before, and the last big storm had been in second place with honourable mentions, with the day her secret crush had been blasted to the air trailing not far behind. This day - it put those other days into an acute perspective. The fear, the shock, the lunge into unknown connected all those days, but somehow, uncontrollable strangers with guns were much worse than uncontrollable friends, weather, or planes.

And the day wasn't even close to coming to an end yet. She didn't know the exact time, but could hazard a guess; she had left the camp about three o'clock, had walked well over half an hour before Jackson had found her, then they had talked for awhile, had discovered the men, had searched for shelter, had settled down. Perhaps another hour had passed since then. That would mean it had only been about three hours ago, when everything had been fine. When they had been safe. It felt much longer than that.

And there was plenty of time for this day to become a lot worse, and to really earn its place as _the most horrible day, ever._

Melissa tried to withdrew deeper into herself, to block both the thoughts swirling inside, and the raging storm outside. But her thoughts were insistent, and the weather impossible to ignore. Their shelter did little to shield them from the fury of the tempest; she doubted if anything could.

They had started to find a suitable shelter after it became clear that waiting and hiding would be their best plan of action for the time being. Besides from the camp, there really was only one place that they knew had a solid roof - the bunker. However, the place was out of the question; even if all the thugs were back at the camp, which they had no way of knowing, the men could came back at any time to get the drugs. Melissa really didn't want to go anywhere near the place, a sheltering roof or not.

Their options had been quite limited; the beach was totally exposed to the fury of the elements, and any kind of clearing was more likely to attract lightning than the dense jungle. Therefore, they had walked a little deeper into the tropical forest, and had settled in a place where thick bushes tangled with tree trunks, creating an almost impenetrable wall of green and brown.

It had started to rain, when they had been covering their chosen ground with palm leaves. A view drops had been all the warning they got; half a minute later the sky was pouring water down in buckets. Even half way under a bush, with several palm trees forming their own kind of roof over their heads, the raindrops still managed to find their way into Melissa's bare skin.

She shivered despite Jackson's jacket on her. He had insisted that she wore it, since she had left her own in the camp, and she had quickly realised it would have been futile to argue; Jackson's mind was made. She regretted now her stupid thoughtlessness; if she was cold even with the jacket on, what must he be feeling only in t-shirt?

The heat of the day had faded after the dark clouds had smothered the sun; the wind was cool, turning their skins to gooseflesh, trying to bore its way into their bone marrow. It seemed ridiculous to be freezing in a tropical island, but there was no way of denying what was happening: Melissa was cold and wet and miserable.

_And don't forget, afraid. _

All around them, the leaves were swinging wildly, the trees groaning under the pressure of the gale. The whole jungle was alive; moaning and shifting restlessly, trying to shelter itself from the assault. Melissa felt the palm trunk behind her sway, and prayed that it, or any of the other trees, wouldn't fall on top of them.

The dark of the forest was lit regularly by the sudden bright streaks of blue across the sky, following almost immediately by a crash of thunder. The storm was almost on top of them now, and her heart raced with adrenaline.

When Melissa had been a little child, she used to crawl into her parents bed, when the thunder had scared her. Older, she had felt exited, and had usually watched as the brilliant strikes of lightning had coloured the sky, but even then, she had still always felt nervous, unsettled by the raw force of the nature. Now, she felt like that small child again, wanting nothing more than to hide her face into the folds of her mother's sheets.

But there were no lavender scented sheets, no warm hand stroking her hair.

No, instead, there was the next best thing Melissa could possibly imagine: a solid form huddling against her, a strong arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer.

_He said we are together in this. _And Melissa had never doubted Jackson's word. She felt so immensely grateful that she wasn't alone.

They had not talked since they had pressed close together in their shelter; it was too much of a struggle to get ones voice across the howl of the wind. In a way, there was nothing to talk about. There was no point in voicing their fears, and it was futile to talk about what would happen. They would get through this storm, she was certain that they would, and after it…

_We'll think of something. Anything. _

She knew what she wanted to do though; she wanted to just hide until the men left, hide until everything would be alright again, hide with Jackson's arm around her, his comforting presence calming her down. It made her feel the biggest crook in the whole island.

_Coward. _

"Hey." His voice in her ear startled her; it was almost a mere whisper, but his head was so close to hers that the word was carried across the wind seemingly effortlessly.

She twisted herself partly towards his face; trying to angle her head closer still.

"The drawings you made - they were great. You draw a lot?"

She thought of the charcoal sketches she had made for everyone on their made-up celebration day; how the simple act of drawing had made her feel calmer, closer to home.

"Yeah." Suddenly the single word wasn't enough, and she felt the need to elaborate. "It's something I can do by myself - just me. I can…It doesn't need any words. Like playing music."

To her mind came the image of him sitting in the fireplace, holding that guitar; she remembered the song he had played, the way he had surprised them all. Only not them all, she could see it now; Taylor had not held that same amazement, for she had already known.

"I know what you mean." There was a pause, and she thought that the conversation had come to an end, but then his voice was once again reaching for her ear.

"There wasn't much I could do back at home…besides staring at television or hanging around in the neighbourhood. Learning how to play…was a lifesaver."

There were no pauses after that. They talked, finally. Really talked. Not about the crash or their current situation, but of their lives back home; what they liked and disliked; they spoke of the simple things. She didn't know, if he was just trying to get their minds of the fear, of the fierce storm enclosing them, or if he wanted to just talk to her, but for once, she didn't really care.

He was here, with her, and in that moment, it was all that mattered.

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o

This was not the way things were supposed to go. Cole most certainly had not planned getting stuck on the island as the storm raged, and couldn't have even imagined that he would be waiting for it to end in a wreckage of a plane, with five stranded kids.

But then again, he hadn't planned that jail trip either.

He had to admit that the plane was an excellent shelter; solid enough that not even the biggest gusts of wind could rock it, with the steady beat of the rain against the metal creating a noise almost soothing.

No, he couldn't ask for a better shelter in a deserted island; it was the company that was seriously getting on his nerves. Cole was not surprised, for in his experience it was always the other people, the whole humankind, who got in his way, tried their damnedest to prevent him from getting his share of the good life. Not this time though.

Even ever silent Jin had began to annoy him. The man was sitting cross-legged next to him, face and body motionless. Jin never gave him any trouble, wasn't an irritating bastard like Larry, but the fact that he couldn't read the man's face made him sometimes edgy. Jin could be planning all kinds of things and Cole would never even know…

At least, he didn't have that problem with Larry; the bastards intentions could be seen pretty clearly on the leering face. The man was sitting on one of the remaining seats, legs propped up, casting suggestive glances towards the girls at the back of the plane.

_Shit, another problem for me to take care of._

The girls were either oblivious to the looks, or steadily ignoring them. The black boy glared a view times at Cole and Larry in particular, but the other kids avoided looking at them. All except the smallest one, the black haired one, who surely wasn't a teenager, but really only a child. The boy had a strange kind of mix of shock and wonder on his face; like he was trying to solve a terrifying puzzle. The face made Cole uncomfortable.

The kids were all huddled together, silent and clearly afraid. Before, Cole had almost felt sorry for them. Not anymore.

_They are cunning little bastards._

He felt the familiar burn of rage inside him, and clenched his fists. If it weren't for the happy stranded campers, his debts would steadily be on their way to be paid. The threat of painful death would have been lifted from his head. He could have continued to dream about all that deep sea fishing he was going to do once he got out of this mess. Instead, he was trying to scrape together some kind of plan to survive. And all this because the maggots had the nerve to crash of all the possible places on to _his _island and touch _his _property.

They had touched his drugs. Granted, they had left the packages as they were, but hadn't extended that same courtesy towards his money. For the plastic bag, with several neat rolls of American dollars was not in the hideaway he had put it. The drugs were just half of the payment; Cole really needed that money.

The kids hadn't even mentioned the bills, but then again, who would want to give up that kind of sum willingly? He hadn't seen even a flicker of uncertainty, when he had questioned them, but that just proved that they were good liars. And Cole was certain that the little bastards were lying. What were the odds that someone else just happened to stumble upon the bunker in a deserted island, and also managed to find the money stash?

_Exactly. _

They had his money, and he was going to get it all back, with interests. No doubt about the outcome. However, the way he was going to do it - that needed some careful thinking. As much as Cole wanted to squeeze the truth out of the kids, at this very moment (for he wanted his money damn it!), he couldn't be so straightforward about it.

Jin and Larry had no idea about the money stash, they were on this just for a share of the drugs, and Cole intended to keep it that way. First, he had to get those two out of the way, maybe send them back to the boat, as he questioned the kids and retrieved the money. But that wasn't without its problems either. There was the weather, which wasn't showing any signs of calming down, and although it would have been satisfying to send Larry out into the storm, the other man would have risen a mutiny. He had to wait until at least the pouring rain had stopped. As for sending both Jin and Larry away from the camp…that would look too suspicious, since it didn't really need two persons to check the boat.

_Maybe I have to let Jin on this._

Cole didn't like where the situation was heading to. If he took Jin into his plans, he would have to give the man some kind of share of the money. But it seemed there would be no other option, and if he had to trust either Jin or Larry, well, the choice was kind of obvious. No way in hell was Cole letting Larry anywhere near his money.

He looked at the seemingly innocent kids, leaning into each other, some of them holding hands. They had managed to survive here by themselves for three weeks, and had built a camp that had impressed even Cole. They had told straight to his face, that _no, we didn't touch anything else_, acting like he was the biggest bad guy in the world.

And yes, they weren't so wrong about that; Cole knew himself well enough to admit that sometimes he could be quite a bad man. His creditors however - they were worse.

He _needed _his money back. But just because his need was pulsing through his veins painfully, whispering all kinds of dark things to his ear, didn't mean he would act blindly and underestimate the little worms.

He wasn't worried though; the kids had proved to be quite good at survival skills, but no one, _no one_, was better than Cole, when it came to plain raw survival.

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o

_So, things are getting a little complicated back in the camp…_

_Please review your thoughts; they are very much appreciated._

_Next week: The silence in the plane is finally broken, and in the jungle, Melissa doesn't know if she should be happy or terrified - for Jackson has a plan!_


	6. Chapter 6: Persuasion

_Chapter 6: Persuasion_

o

Something itched in her hair - no doubt a bug -, and Daley felt a pressing urge to scratch her scalp. Both her hands were occupied though; the left hand resting in Nathan's palm, the right maintaining a reassuring grip on Lex's hand. However annoying the itch was, she had no intention of letting go either of the hands. They gave her the courage that she desperately needed.

Nathan, sitting beside her, reminding Daley that she was not alone in this.

Lex, her little brother, her responsibility, his mere presence effectively forcing her to pull herself together.

There was no time for fear or panic; Daley needed to stay sharp, ready to adapt to new threats. For she couldn't believe that this was it, that the bad guys would just sit with them in the plane, and after the storm, _hello goodbye. _No, there would be no such easy way out of this, and she intended to be ready for whatever came, ready to protect Lex.

The rain was a steady beat against the plane, but the thunder had moved further away, its rumble loud enough, but not deafening anymore. The storm would be over soon, and then this odd stalemate would come to an end.

The fear was a hard stone at the bottom of her stomach, making her queasy. She tried to furiously crush it down.

_Get a grip!_

It wasn't like the men were even that scary. The Asian wasn't as tall as she was, and was not looking particularly dangerous. And the leader, he wouldn't be half that intimidating without his gun; just an ordinary man with a really bad Hawaii shirt. The third man, the brute…well, the ruthless presence was just probably a front.

And as dire as their situation was, Daley could -alright, _tried _- to see the humour in it. Their luck really was unbelievable. This was like something straight from a bad movie; first the crash, then these smugglers.

_All we need now is a romance. Wait - we kind of have that too._

She reminded herself that not all their luck had been bad, for not all of them were here stuck as hostages. Melissa and Jackson were somewhere out there, in all likelihood soaked to the skin, but free. Maybe they would do something…

No, she couldn't wait for Jackson and Melissa to act, if they even were going to act at all. Lex's life rested on her shoulders; she had to do something and soon. Perhaps she could reason with the men, make them believe that no one here was a threat to them, persuade them to leave without violence.

A brilliant lightning flashed, and several seconds went by before the clap of thunder followed it. Time was running out.

When Daley actually opened her mouth, she surprised even herself.

"You know…we will not stand in your way."

The leader raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything. The Asian and the brute were staring at her, but they were also keeping their quiet. The brute looked amused.

Daley forced herself to plunge on. "We have done everything you told us to do."

"Really?" The leader's voice was controlled, but underneath it was a hint of something unpleasant, pulling the leash, trying to get free.

Nathan nudged her side, clearly preferring the prior silence to the strained attempt at conversation.

"We are no threat to you. You could let us just be." Daley could hear the pleading in her own voice, but didn't care; if she had to beg on her knees, she would do it.

"So, I should let you all go?" The tone was almost light; he was clearly humouring her.

"We are stuck on this island, there's nowhere we can go, there's no one here we could tell about this." As she was saying the words, the hopelessness of their situation finally hit her in all its dreadfulness. Tears were starting to sting in her eyes.

"The way you are speaking, one would almost get the impression that you think I am going to do something terrible to you…" The leader had a twitch round the corners of his mouth.

"Hell, isn't that the plan?" The brute's voice was horribly matter-of-fact.

Daley swallowed painfully, panic starting to climb upwards in her throat.

"Why leave any witnesses, right?" There was a frightening glee in the brute's eyes, and she suddenly realized, _he is enjoying this._

The leader gave the man a sharp glare, and then shrugged his shoulders to Daley, mockingly apologetic.

"We'll have to see just how well you continue to do as I say."

And that was it; the conversation was clearly over. Silence settled once again over them, the storm's howl outside making the lack of voice inside the plane seem even more profound.

The desperation, the deep sense of failure, joined the fear in her stomach; the weight pressing hard her insides, raising waves of nausea and pain.

Daley felt something wet roll down her cheeks, and soon tasted salt on her lips. She didn't make any move to wipe the tears away. She couldn't loosen her grip from Nathan or Lex.

She had to hold on; it was all she had left.

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o

Jackson had a plan.

A plan that tilted more towards the crazy-desperate-nuts section than he was comfortable with, but a plan nonetheless. Something he could put into action, something he could do to help the others. For at this point, pretty much everything beat hiding here in their "shelter", soaked to the skin and worrying if they would survive to see another day.

He had thought it carefully through. As the storm had leashed its fury upon the island, his mind had came up with different scenarios, until finally there had been one that was a little less suicidal than the rest.

_What a great recommendation._

Despite all the misgivings he had, all the numerous things he knew could go wrong, he felt himself getting exited. If he could do this…God, this could finally be the chance they had been looking for; how could he let it pass by?

The storm had moved along a little while ago, but had left the dark clouds on its wake, covering the sky completely. The wind had subsided, but was still strong, ripping leaves and swirling them around in dizzying whirlpool. The pouring rain had lessened to a drizzle, enfolding the jungle into a soft grey haze. It was clear there would be no after-storm-sun breaking through the clouds and warming their chilled bones. It seemed they would stay wet, at least until they could get back to the camp…whenever that would be.

_No matter; I will soon get wet again anyway._

Jackson felt the weight of Melissa's form against his; could hear her even breathing close to his ear. They had talked long, about everything and nothing, and he had been surprised at how much he had enjoyed it. There had been a lot he hadn't known about her, small things that formed an endearing and complex picture of the girl next to him. And for the first time, he hadn't minded sharing pits and pieces from his own life in return.

_There's nothing quite like a little crisis to bring people closer to each other._

For the past half hour though, they had been quiet, trying to rest despite their less than ideal circumstances. He had even tried to close his eyes for awhile, knowing he would need his mind clear and his body strong, if he was going to be of any use, but his eyes hadn't stayed closed for long. Even if he hardly saw anything besides green leaves and grey haze, he still needed to keep watch - just in case.

Mel had been quiet and still, but he could tell she hadn't slept either. She was probably as exhausted as he was; definitely as stiff. They had crouched on the ground for what felt like hours - had to be hours - , moving only to huddle up more closely around each other. He could feel all the tension, how it squeezed his muscles into tight painful knots.

_Ok, time for action._

Carefully he shifted his weight; slowly drawing his arm away from her shoulders.

"I'm going to stand up."

As Jackson untangled himself from Melissa, who was slowly coming out from her daze, he could feel how her warmth was replaced by cold air, making him shiver violently. Funny how much heat even two wet freezing bodies could give to each other.

He stood up, and every part of him protested at once. There was a sharp agony in his stiff shoulders, whereas his knees felt completely numb.

"Ouch!" The sudden exclamation that accompanied his efforts to make his body work again was not how he had planned to make Melissa smile, but he was not about to complain; still crouching on the ground, she was looking at him with a near smirk on her face.

"That painful? Maybe I better stay here then." But even as she was saying it, her arm rose towards him, ready to be grabbed.

He grinned and pulled her to stand beside him. "Stiff much?"

"Yeah." She winced as she stretched her arms. "I think I heard something just pop."

"Ok, I think as fun as I just had, I am not going to do this again anytime soon." His voice was only partly sarcastic, for Jackson realised that even if he hadn't had fun in the traditional meaning of the word, snuggling with Melissa and just talking with her definitely wasn't a bad way to spend some time.

She gave him a brilliant smile that told that she had got his meaning, leaving him to marvel at the way she sometimes could see right through him. However, her smile vanished all too soon, and was replaced by a sombre expression.

"So, no more sitting."

Jackson knew the moment had come and felt suddenly nervous. It had been one thing to think in his mind his plan could succeed, but it was a whole another matter to actually explain it all out aloud.

"I have a plan."

Melissa's attention was completely on him now; he could practically feel all her hope and fear, shimmering just beneath her skin, reaching towards him.

"The thugs - they had to come here by boat. We would have heard a plane, and anyway, there isn't anyplace near the bunker where you can land a plane, so they have to have some kind of boat." He traced his earlier thoughts, trying to convince as much himself as Melissa that it could really work.

"And I think I know where the boat is - there is this little bay, not far from the bunker - an ideal place really - I mean it has to be there." He was speaking faster, trying to get his thoughts across to her.

"And there has to be a radio in the boat. A radio Mel - I can call us help - God, I can get us off this damned island!" Saying it aloud made their chance for rescue to become so much more real; the heavy bleakness, hopelessness that had gotten hold of him even before the men had showed up seemed to be lifted from him.

_Maybe the criminals really are a blessing in disguise. _

"But what if some of them are in the boat?" Melissa didn't sound too happy. Jackson concentrated on her grave face.

"I don't think any of them would have stayed in there during the storm, but if - well, it remains to be seen."

"How are you going to get into the boat if it is in the middle of the bay?"

"I'll swim."

"In this weather!"

"I'll manage." Jackson's answers were fast turning from persuasive into defensive. He had thought of all the difficulties in his plan that Melissa was now raising, but hearing them from her irritated him. Couldn't she see that there was no other way?

"Jackson… I - I don't think this is such a good plan."

"Well it's the best I can think of! Or do you have something in your mind?" His words were sharper than he had intended, but he couldn't hide his disappointment for her less than enthusiastic response to his plan.

"No, I don't." She bit her lower lip. "I just think there are many things that could go wrong." Her voice was apologetic.

"I know, but I have to try. Mel - don't you see this is our chance to call for help, to tell someone that we are here? To finally get rescued?"

"You want to save the others, or do you want to get of this island?"

The question was cutting; the doubt in it bit deeply into Jackson's ego. A scathing response was already in his lips, but he willed it down. Melissa was right to ask the question; the way he had almost reacted had been a prove of that. For it hadn't cut so deep, if there wasn't some truth in it.

"Both. I want to help the others, and I want us all to be rescued." He looked into her eyes, and spoke as honestly as he could. "Luckily, the two aren't mutually exclusive."

"If you manage to radio help, it could still take awhile for someone to come." She left the _too long _unsaid, but he could hear it nonetheless.

"I know." He had said all he could; there weren't any words left he could have used to persuade her to support the plan.

"Alright, let's do this then. Lead the way."

Melissa's voice was firm, and Jackson almost laughed in surprise. Really, he should have seen this coming, for when had she ever let him down?

"Actually…I thought it would be better if you stayed here."

Melissa's glare was quite impressive, matching perfectly her words. "I don't think so." She started to walk, only to turn after a view paces to look at him, her expression clearly saying, _So are you coming?_

He joined her quickly, finding it impossible to smother the grin that was spreading over his whole face. He wanted her to be safe, but he was more than glad that she had decided to accompany him on this little, possibly crazy/desperate, endeavour.

For when she was with him, failure really wasn't an option.

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o

_Thank you all for your reviews, but as I am always hungry for them, I have to ask you to send some more…_

_What do you think of the plan? Can it succeed? Does it seem rational? _

_Next week, the plan is put into action, and our hostages have to face the changing situation in the camp_….


	7. Chapter 7: Like Lambs to the Slaughter

_Chapter 7: Like Lambs to the Slaughter_

o

While walking through the darkening jungle towards the bay, all Melissa was able to think was _this is a really bad idea_.

She was following Jackson's determined form, sidestepping vegetation that was too wild and thick for them to cut through, hopping over protruding roots and brushing leaves that were trying to cling to her hair and clothes. She couldn't tell where they were, if they were even going to the right direction. Jackson's step hadn't faltered though; he was walking with long strides, without pausing to rest or to look if Melissa was still following. He clearly had a mission.

She had stood behind that mission; still was standing behind it. Despite all her misgivings, Melissa knew Jackson's plan was their best chance of actually doing something to help the others, to help themselves, maybe even get off this island. It had too many risks, she could think only too many things that could go horribly wrong, but she had agreed it was something they had to try. Besides, he would have just gone without her, and that she could not allow. He might need her yet.

Any other night, and the long shadows entwining around the trees, the unfamiliar rustle deep in the bushes, the odd noises all around them, would have scared her, made her skin crawl. This night; she knew there were worse things out there than snakes and wild boars, or unknown dark shapes.

Something grabbed her leg, and she stumbled, her knees meeting the wet ground.

"You all right?" Jackson had turned and was coming back towards her.

"Yeah." Her knees sting, but otherwise the root hadn't caused any damage. Melissa rose from the ground, and took advantage of the fact she was actually facing Jackson and not his back. "Where are we?"

"Close to the bunker."

She hadn't recognized their surroundings, and quickly tried to find the form of the concrete structure from the surrounding vegetation, her heart beating faster.

"It's all right - we are going round it."

Her heart didn't slow down as much as she would have wanted. The simple knowledge that they were nearing their destination, walking to danger, made her hands tingle. Every step from now on would take them closer to the men and their guns. Anything could happen. Melissa felt awfully unprepared for any of it.

"You're sure you're all right?" Jackson was looking at her intensively, his eyes casting an almost uncomfortable weight over her, looking for any sign of hesitation and doubt.

_We don't have to do this. It's still not too late to turn around._

But all she said was a curt "Yes", and then she was walking onwards, forcing herself towards the bay, before her courage would utterly fail her, and she could not move another step.

Jackson walked beside her, and silently took the lead once more.

A strange kind of quiet settled over her, a heavy resignation bearing the unmistakable mark of finality. This was it; there was no turning back now.

Step after step, she followed him, hoping, praying that they wouldn't be just running straight into the criminals, into their own way too premature deaths.

And then suddenly, they were standing at the edge of the jungle, looking over the dark swaying mass that formed the waters of the bay, waves that were rocking a big dark shadow. The boat.

Melissa didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved; Jackson had been right. About a hundred meters from the shore, a small fishing boat formed an imposing shape against the dusky sky. It rolled from side to side, straining at its anchor.

They peered cautiously over the small patch of beach, eyes searching for any sign of the men. The luck was on their side though; the shore was empty, the only noises were created by the restless wind, and there was no light in sight.

Jackson left the cover of the trees and stepped into the beach. Melissa held her breath involuntary, waiting for an angry shout or a shot. Nothing happened.

"They must be all back in the camp." His voice shattered the tense atmosphere, and managed to break her paralysis. She felt her shoes sank to the sand as she walked to him. He was looking thoughtfully around him, eyes discerning the shapes at the line between the forest and the bay.

"I wonder…" Jackson let the sentence fade away, his attention wholly on something in the distance.

"What?" Melissa could hear the alarm in her voice, and hated her own timidity. She quickly followed Jackson, who strode towards the left side of the bay, opposite from where they had came from.

As they neared the edge of the jungle, she could distinguish a shape that strangely reminded her of a half moon. Only when they came to stand over it, Melissa recognized that it was a rowboat, tied to a palm trunk.

"Just as I thought - they didn't swam to the shore." He was grinning as he examined the wooden boat.

"Well, this is great. Now you don't have to swim." One of her biggest concerns about the whole plan had been the fact that Jackson would have to swim to the boat - in the dark, rough sea.

"No, using the rowboat will only hinder. Besides, it can be seen too easily." He lifted one of the wooden oars, testing its weight.

"But - you could just row to the ship and back."

"Which is just as hard as swimming, if not more so." He didn't pause from his inspection, but looked closely at the few assorted items that had been left at the bottom of the boat. "And if they come back, they'll immediately see that it's missing."

Melissa acknowledged grudgingly that Jackson's reasoning made sense, but that didn't mean she was ready to just give up her point.

"You'll have to swim at least a hundred meters in a heavy swell, and then back again."

"I'm a good swimmer." He wasn't looking at her; he seemed only partly concentrate on what she was saying, his mind already made. It irritated her.

"How are you going to get on to the deck? You can't climb-"

"They must have left some kind of ladder or rope hanging on the side. How else are they going to climb there?"

Melissa looked despairingly over the small coil of rope and two plastic buckets, full of rain water. Trust the criminals to disregard boating safety; there were no life jackets or anything else that might have been of any use to them.

As if reading her mind, Jackson concluded his examination of the rowboat and its items saying, "Nothing we can use." He started walking back to where they had come, exasperated Melissa fast on his heels.

"Jackson!"

Her voice stopped him abruptly, and he turned almost reluctantly to face her.

"You are really going to do this?" The breath hitched on her throat, and the air in her lungs struggled to get out.

"I think you should wait in the jungle, far from the rowboat. Hide there until I come back. " He was gesturing towards the edge of the forest, not meeting her eyes.

"This is crazy."

"I thought you agreed to this plan."

"I did." But that had been before Melissa had actually seen the roaring sea, the dark waves beating against the hull of the ship.

"And what now, you don't want to get help?" His voice was strained.

"I don't want you to drown!" Her shout startled them both.

Jackson finally locked his eyes to hers, and for the first time Melissa could clearly see the fear and doubt in them.

_He is just as much afraid as I am. _

Oddly, the revelation calmed her down. He was not indifferent to all this, but just trying to cover up his own unease.

"You don't have to do this." _It's ok, if you don't. I'll still think the world of you. _She tried to convey with her eyes all that she could not put to words.

"Yes I do." He offered her a small smile that made her choke back tears.

They didn't argue anymore after that. She watched silently as he got ready; gathering in her arms the wet clothes he shed, picking the sneakers from the sand.

He shivered in his boxers, and she felt furious and ashamed of herself to be blushing over his state of dress in such a serious situation.

"Stay out of sight." He didn't wait for her answer, but started to walk towards the dark ocean.

"Be careful." Her voice was quiet, and she wasn't sure, if he even heard her words. She watched as he stepped into the sea, wading through the water until it reached his shoulders. Her eyes followed his form among the waves, concentrated on each stroke of his hands.

She watched him until she couldn't any longer discern him from the dark swaying mass of water, couldn't recognize his familiar shape.

When her knees buckled, she sat on the sand, and continued to watch the sea.

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o

It had stopped raining, and it was dark outside.

The bad guy -the one in charge- had turned Nathan's flashlight on some time ago, its light casting eerie shadows on the walls of the plane. As if things weren't freaky enough.

Taylor had been quiet and still so long, she felt that something would soon burst in her; hysterical shout or uncontrollable sob. The fear itched underneath her skin, but she forced herself to sit still. If she could just be still and quiet, then maybe no one would notice her, and she would cease to exist; this nightmare would end, and she would soon wake up in her own bed, or if she could not have that, then maybe in her sleeping bag, back in their tent.

_Yeah, I can wish._

But lately, life had been a regular bitch, suffering from some bad, never ending PMS. First the crash, the whole we-are-stuck-here-without-so-much-as-a-roll-of-toilet-paper hell, struggling to get just something to eat, then the storm, and now this. It was so unfair.

It would have seriously pissed her off, if it didn't made her feel so afraid.

She sat cross-legged between Eric and Nathan, their shoulder's almost brushing hers. Daley was huddled against Nathan, and Lex in turn against her. Their faces were obscured by hair and darkness. Taylor couldn't remember, when was the last time she had been this physically close to so many people, so long a time. She had never felt more alone.

The stillness of the moment was broken suddenly, when the leader shifted in his seat and stretched his arms.

"Cut out the beauty sleep Larry; it's time to start working."

The larger man immediately opened his eyes, fully alert and already grinning like a maniac. _Creep_.

"Finally, I can't wait to get off this island."

"We'll be off soon enough, but business first." The leader had fixed his eyes on Larry, ignoring the rabbit-in-the-headlights-looks the five kids were giving him.

"Oh, I'm all for business first and pleasure later." Larry chuckled, his gaze lingering on Taylor. She couldn't help shuddering. _Did I say Creep already?_

"Good." The leader's smile was cold. "Go get the ship ready for the drugs. We'll start loading them as soon as Jin and I get there."

It was obvious that Larry was none too pleased with that.

"And what are _you_ going to do?"

"We'll take care of things here." The man's voice was smooth, but the more Taylor listened to him, to more she recognised that the composed façade was just that - a façade. She had done the same countless of times; hid her confusion and fear under the mask of nonchalance. She doubted that he was hiding fear though.

"It's Jin's boat."

"And I just told _you_ to go to prepare it." The leader didn't flinch under Larry's angry glare, but stared right back, until Larry dropped his eyes and shrugged his shoulders, as the whole thing didn't suddenly matter anymore.

"If you say so." He stood up, and walked briskly to the exit, almost kicking the Asian, who was sitting on the floor, in the progress.

Taylor felt almost giddy with relief. She couldn't see that _creep _leave fast enough.

"Cole." Larry paused at the door, his eyes hooded. "Your taking care of things better involve putting a bullet to their little heads." His voice was just a snarl. "I'm not taking any chances of getting caught again."

Not waiting for an answer, the man stepped outside, his boots creating a heavy thud with each footstep. It was like all the air had been sucked from the plane; Taylor gasped for breath, her thoughts reeling into one panicked prayer, _God, please don't let us die_.

"Ok, everybody out."

The Asian man - Jin or Jong or something- was already out of the plane, when Nathan rose from his seat, pulling Daley up with him.

As Eric stood, Taylor was left sitting on the floor alone, her mind and body numb.

How could it all end like this? None of it made any sense. She was supposed to finish school and become an actress, first maybe in one of those hip sitcoms, later in Hollywood box office hits. This could not happen; she was yet to fall in love, to do any of that stuff that really mattered.

_I want to have kids. I want to see my mom and dad again._

Even after getting stranded on the island, struggling to survive, she had never really thought that she would not make it - that she would _not _live. Her fear had always been of not getting back to home, never of death.

"Come on." Eric's voice was a mere whisper. He looked down at her, offering his hand.

She hesitated, but as Eric's face was growing more alarmed by the minute, she grabbed his hand and let him lead her out of the plane.

The air was cool and damp, and everything smelled of rain.

Taylor trembled, and squeezed Eric's palm so hard it hurt them both. They were back in their earlier position, their backs against the plane, the two men in front of them, trapping them.

_There's nowhere to run._

Someone sobbed; an utterly inconsolable sound, wrenching her own grief free.

The leader remained impassive to their distress.

"Alright. The game ends now."

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_Exited? Bored? Fretful? Still interested?_

_Next week…well, there are really no respites for any of them._


	8. Chapter 8: Mayday!

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I am sorry that this update comes later than I promised; the school work has been insane, and I'm afraid I cannot promise anymore that I will update once a week. However, I am NOT abandoning this story, and I will do my best to update it as often as I possibly can.

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_Chapter 8: Mayday!_

o

"Alright. The game ends now."

If Eric hadn't been in full panic mode already, Cole's words would have pushed him deep into it. But as he was, he couldn't register any increase in his heart rate, or any further difficulties in his breathing. Which was a good thing really; if his heart beat any faster, it would burst right out of his chest, and _thud thud thud _into the jungle, never to be seen again. As for his breathing, he had pretty much hyperventilated ever since meeting the thugs to the present moment. It couldn't really get any worse, except if his lungs decided to stop drawing air all together.

_Which right now looks quite likely._

Cole and Jin were standing in front of them, their postures almost relaxed. The men knew they were in control, they had the power, not to mention the handguns. Eric couldn't help it; his eyes strayed to the black pistol Cole had tucked into his waistband. He had never seen a gun before - not in real life anyway.

"There's two things I can't stand." Cole was speaking again, and Eric pulled his gaze quickly away from the gun. "People touching my things, and people lying to me."

Taylor's grip on his hand tightened, and he felt an uncomfortable sensation of pain climbing from his palm towards his shoulder. Cautiously, he tried to loosen her hold, but in vain.

"Congratulations; you have managed to do both." Cole's voice was cold, his face a hard stone, where ripples of emotion -anger, disgust, fury- rose to the surface and then drowned again in a matter of seconds.

There were several sharp intakes of breath all around Eric, but otherwise they all stayed quiet. How could one respond to a dangerous criminal maniac, who had just stated that they had lied to him and touched his things? _Yes sir, we certainly did, but really, we didn't mean any harm?_

Jin, true to his earlier behaviour, remained silent and passive; as if the ongoing drama had no effect on him.

"Well, don't you have anything to add to this riveting conversation?" Cole's eyes sought each of them one by one, his stare demanding answers.

Eric felt a sudden need to be invisible.

"We already said we were sorry." Nathan was the first and the only one to open his mouth. _Of course it's the boy scout who comes to the rescue._

"Where do you think you are? Preschool?" Cole's voice was raising in volume. "That I will send you to brood into a corner if you are naughty?"

Lex started sobbing. A horrible foreboding crashed into Eric's mind. The man couldn't be furious just because they had found the drugs. Either Cole had realised that Melissa and Jackson were also on the island or…

"Trust me, I will do much more than make you cry."

"Then what do you want?" Daley sounded upset, almost angry. "We'll do anything, just don't-"

"I want my money!" The shout was fierce and despite the circumstances, quite unexpected. It was the first time that Cole's voice lost its controlled tone, and they all startled, and Eric found that his heart could, after all, beat a little faster still.

_Oh no. Oh no no no no._

"Now…" Cole seemed to get his temper under control once more, continuing with an almost soft voice. "Just give me the money, and then this can all end."

"But we don't have any money." Nathan was quick to answer, puzzlement competing with fear.

Eric had not forgotten the money. His secret treasure, buried in a shallow grave. He was not stupid either. In the plane, when he had had more than enough time to connect the dots, he had realised that the money in all likelihood belonged to the men. But to his astonishment and relief, at that time, Cole had only spoken of the drugs; the man hadn't even hinted towards any secret money stash. And Eric had not volunteered that information. He had prayed that by some miracle, the issue would not be raised at all, that maybe the thugs didn't even know about the money. True to their luck, he had not gotten his miracle.

"You have _my_ money." Cole was clearly irritated; his voice low and dangerous.

_What should I do? Tell - but how - I can't - what if - !_

Eric's mind was in disarray, his frantic thoughts scattering and clashing with each other. He was painfully aware of the others around him; Lex's crying, Daley's shuddering breath, Nathan's rigid form, Taylor's death grip on his hand. They had no idea what was going on.

"We don't - please, we don't know about any money." Daley's words were desperate.

_I can't - I can't - God, I can't -_

A silence, thick with sick fear, settled over the camp. Cole seemed to measure their every move, calculate their expressions, his narrow eyes trying to read their thoughts.

_Please believe please believe please leave -_

"If this is how you want to play this - then lets play." The man took a step towards them, taking the pistol into his hand.

_Oh God._

Cole pointed the gun towards Lex casually; the nonchalant movement more intimidating than any threatening action could have ever been.

"I will shoot the kid first. And then I will start shooting the rest of you, until I get my money."

For a small moment, they all seemed to be shell-shocked; unable to understand, to move their limbs or lips. A weird bubble of silence, deadening every sound in the nightmarish, unfathomable scene.

And then the bubble exploded, and the world was crashing around them with terrible speed, their noises shattering the air all at once, ear-splitting and heartrending.

"Don't!" Anguish. "Please!" Pleading. "Stop!" Outrage. "You can't!" Desperation.

"I swear we don't know about any money. I swear-"

"Please, you can't, he's just a kid, you can't-"

"We'll give you anything-"

"Anything!"

"Please don't."

Their pleading didn't move Cole; unwavering, the man continued to point the weapon at Lex and Daley, who had pushed her brother behind her. "Time is running out."

Eric opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Nothing. His throat was dry; the mere act of breathing taking all his strength and concentration.

_Time is running out. There is no time. Say something!_

"He has done nothing to you. He's the most sweetest…he's my brother - he has done nothing to you." Daley's outcry was just a terrified sob.

"Then you better end this now - my patience is spent."

_End this - end this now!_

"I don't know - I'm sorry but I don't-"

"I have your money!" When the words finally found their way out of Eric's mouth, his voice was trembling with fear and anger.

All eyes turned to watch him.

He gulped. "I - I know where the money is. Please, just stop this."

Cole barked a small laugh. "Well, isn't this interesting!"

Lex still cried. Taylor released her hand from Eric's, and the sudden emptiness, the lack of pressure and warmth, was deafening.

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Once, when Jackson had been eight years old, he had thought he was going to die.

He had been sent to get something to eat from the grocery store near by, his mother in no shape to go herself (too tired and depressed and drunk as usual), and he had took the crumpled bills, stuffed them deep into his pockets, and said he would be right back.

Knowing all too well about the dangers of late night shopping, he had been careful, making himself as small and insignificant as he possibly could. It worked the six blocks it took him to walk to the store, but failed in the last street he had to cross. A group of menacing shadows had disentangled themselves from the basketball field, wanting to have some fun. They were between him and the bright lights of the store.

He had turned around and run. Faster and harder than he had ever run, his small legs trying desperately to stay ahead of the bigger boys. They had yelped and cheered each other on. They were too fast; he had known he couldn't outrun them for long.

Eventually, they caught up with him, but not before he had managed to squeeze himself into a small ventilator shaft in some dark, dirty alley, crawling as far back as he could get, and then curling into a small ball.

They were too big and couldn't follow him. Instead, they taunted him, told him what they would do to him, laughed when they beat the shaft with a metal pole, making the claustrophobic space thunder and shudder.

Jackson had been sure that he was going to die.

Of course, he hadn't. Eventually, the bullies had became bored and had left, but he hadn't come out for the longest of times, afraid that they were just waiting for him around the corner.

Finally, he hadn't been able to listen to the scuffling of the rats in the dark anymore; he had plunged out and run without looking back the whole way home.

His mother had been asleep, and in the morning, Jackson had gotten to the store and back, and made them breakfast, before she ever woke.

He had been so tired then, and God, he was so tired now. And maybe this time, he really was going to die.

It felt like he had fought the waves forever; he had stood on the beach, so far behind him now, a lifetime ago. There was only the dark sea, all around him, and he couldn't let himself think that he had somehow missed the boat, had swam into the wrong direction, towards the open sea, he _couldn't_, because then it would be all over.

Jackson tried to concentrate on each stroke of his aching hands, to force himself to move his arms and legs in the cold water. When he had first stepped into the ocean, the chilling water had been like an electric shock; it still made his bare skin tingle and shudder.

_Shouldn't I be numb by now?_

He had found a frail rhythm, letting the waves swing him from their crests to their very bottom, and up again, up and down, the water spilling over his head, forcing itself into his mouth. Every time he was tossed through a wave, he feared he would be pulled so deep under the water that he couldn't find his way to the surface anymore. His lungs, desperate for air, would be filled with water; he would sink to the deep, to the impenetrable darkness, forever lost.

There was no one chasing him now, but the whole sea, and he felt so tired, ready to stop the struggle so he could rest, just for awhile. But he couldn't; stopping now would meant failure and death and Melissa alone in the beach.

_I'll be damned if I give up now. _Not when rescue was so near. Not when he had said he would, that _he could _do this. Not when he had promised.

Another wave hit him, the heavy mass of water slamming into him with a force of a moving car, plunging him under the surface. It was so dark, and for a moment he couldn't tell which way was up and down. His lungs burned. Jackson kicked with his feet, beat the water with his hands, trying to drag himself up, somewhere where there was air.

_Up - up - up -_

And finally, the cool air flowed into him painfully, and he was high up, and there was a dark shape in front of him that was swaying and reaching into the surrounding darkness.

_God - the boat._

The sight itself gave his exhausted body a boost of new energy, and with each stroke the distance between him and the ship became less and less, and he felt the hope that had left him come back, making him believe _I will survive this_.

The sea carried him straight to his goal, almost crushing him against the side of the fishing boat. He floated beside it, trying to find a way to get into the deck, away from the surging waves.

He was ready to panic -if he couldn't get to the deck, he would drown, he would be crushed against the bulk of the ship - when his eyes caught the rope ladder, swinging against the side of the boat.

Later, Jackson couldn't recall how he had managed to haul himself up the ladder. He could remember the sharp pain in his hands, how the skin in his palms had rubbed against the rope, drawing blood. How he had hanged there, between the sea and the ship, for a long moment, terrified that he would lose his hold and plummet back to the ocean, certain he couldn't drag himself up the second time.

Later, he could only remember how good it had felt, the hard metal of the deck, under him, so solid and real. He could have sobbed from relief; maybe he did.

He lay there for a moment, trying to get his breathing and his surging feelings under control. The wind bit into his skin, and he was shaking uncontrollably.

Jackson forced himself to move, and grabbing the railing, made his way towards the bridge. He stumbled on the slippery deck, his feet uncertain and weak, but finally he reached the front of the ship, and after probing in the dark, he found the door handle to the bridge and turned it with a silent prayer.

He staggered inside, the door slamming shut with a bang after him. It was strangely quiet in the cabin, the wind and the sea shut outside the small space. The bridge was dark, save for the small flickering lights in the control board, giving him enough light to separate the different shapes from each other.

He stepped around the helm and stood in front of the control board, his heart thundering in his chest. To his luck, the radio was easy enough to distinguish from all the other hardware, but he couldn't help wishing that Lex would be there.

_I can't fuck this up now. _

He took a deep breath.

_Please. I won't ask anything else, ever._

He picked up the radio receiver and fumbled the controls.

_Please - this has to work. _

He listened to the familiar static, plunging on.

"Mayday! Mayday! Is anyone there? Mayday!"

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_What did you thought? Please review all your ideas, suggestions and opinions to me; they can be very helpful. _

_What Cole is going to do to Eric? Is help on the way? Find out in the next chapter! _


	9. Chapter 9: Venturing off the course

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Sorry for the long break between the chapters! As it has been so long, a reminder of what happened: Eric confessed to Cole that he knew where the money was, and Jackson got to the ship and started to radio help. And here, finally, the next chapter…also, a slight warning for the upcoming language, well, because it's Larry.

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_Chapter 9: Venturing off the course_

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This damned island was seriously starting to piss him off.

First the storm, then the kids, and Cole's _I-the-great-leader _act, and now this stupid island. Larry was stumbling in the dark, wet jungle, heading for the bay, because _Cole said _to make Jin's rusty fish smelling boat ready for loading the drugs. While the great leader himself with his trusty sidekick were having all the fun back in the camp. Like a mere hired hand, he had been sent away to do the heavy work, his contribution to this whole gig totally ignored and so fucking unappreciated.

_If Cole thinks I am just going to sit by idly when he fucks things up, he has another thing coming for him._

For this was his gig also, the third of the drugs were now his, and Larry would be damned, if he let this whole thing go to hell just because some storm and those kids and this miserable island got in their way. Not a chance. The storm had passed, and Cole would take care of the little bastards (if he didn't, Larry certainly would) and soon he could leave this cursed place behind. For it was really, seriously, starting to piss him off.

He was lost.

Larry stopped in a small clearing, his black mood turning more blacker. He didn't recognize this place. He had intended to cut through the forest, instead of following the beach, and save some time. But somehow, in the darkness, he had managed to venture deeper into the jungle, his sense of direction completely failing him. Every palm tree looked the same, the dark bushes and vines shutting the path behind him, sealing him inside the forest. The air was still humid and cool, making his skin shiver. It annoyed him.

He tried to listen for the sound of waves, for the sound of the sea, but all he could hear was the rustle of the jungle, as the wind continued to rip the leaves. If he just found his way back to the beach, he could then get his bearings, could find his way to the boat. But there was nothing, only the wind and the sounds of the forest, alive and breathing down his neck. Shit, he hated this place.

Larry kicked the wet ground, cursing. This was not what he had in mind, when he had agreed to Cole's plan back in Hawaii. A mere week out of the jail, and he should be still celebrating with some nice girls and enough booze to dull everything into a warm fuzzy haze. Not flounder in this damn jungle, leaving Cole to deal with the potential witnesses.

_I'm not taking any chances of getting caught again. _He had meant what he had said to Cole; there was no way in hell he was leaving anything behind that could lead him back behind bars. He had killed people for less.

_And I bet so has Cole. _

The man was cold as ice; nothing had fazed him inside the prison. Larry had been glad to take the gig, just because Cole had showed enough cool-headedness to pull off this kind of job. No, the man would not leave any witnesses behind.

Still, a strange kind of wariness had taken root in his mind, a tingling sensation he knew not to ignore. Cole could not to be trusted. As long as their interests were the same, they would work together grudgingly, but he was certain that if the opportunity presented itself, the other man would not hesitate to stab him in the back.

_Hell, I would do that to him myself, if I got the chance._

Larry had fleetingly thought of loading the drugs by himself, before Cole and Jin would get to the boat; just take the drugs and sail away, leave the bastards here in this hell of a island.

He grinned. _Oh yeah, I like that thought. _

Sadly, it was not meant to be. He could never load the drugs by himself in time, and he would be fish food, if he got caught trying to steal the other's share. No, for now at least, he would have to follow Cole's orders, staying sharp and ready for the right opportunity.

That is, if he ever got back to the boat.

_This is ridiculous! _Larry did not get lost. Not in some fucking tropical jungle. Not, when Cole would give him this infuriating smirk, if the man only knew.

Cole, or anybody else for that matter, would certainly not know about this, ever.

He tried to listen one more time for the sounds of the sea, tilting his ears in different directions, eyes shut. Tried to still his hard breathing, to concentrate on what was beneath the noise of the wind. _Like some lame ass yoga clown. _Nothing. This was seriously starting to pi- There! A faint rumble, barely audible.

Finally, a sense of direction. Larry ignored the strong feeling of relief that coursed through him and turned steadily into the direction of the sea, carefully keeping his ears tuned to the new sound.

_As I said, I do not get lost. _He would be in the bay in no time.

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Jin was not surprised, not really.

Cole's barely suppressed rage, the sudden demand for money, the fact that everything had got out of control so fast; it was as Jin had been just waiting for it all to happen. Steering his boat out of the port, towards Cole's coordinates, he had readied himself for rough ride. The violence, the betrayal, the sudden new direction this whole thing had veered into were expected, almost welcomed. He knew where he stood now.

It was not rocket science. Cole obviously had not told him everything about his secret stash in the island. He had not only drugs, but money he had intended to keep to himself. The only reason the man had spilled the beans was because of the kids.

Jin looked at the tearstained faces in front of him, the scared eyes, and sighed. They should have known better than to mess with the money. Or the boy should have known better. For it was not that hard to deduct who the real culprit here was either. The white boy they had first stumbled upon in this island had fidgeted the whole time, his eyes evasive. Jin knew guilty face, when he saw one.

He wondered how long the boy could keep his silence. Cole would not continue the questioning forever. Jin recognized the man's deceptively relaxed posture for what it really was; readiness to spring every muscle into action, to erupt into violence.

"Then you better end this now - my patience is spent." Cole's voice was hard and final.

_Here we go. Time is out. _

"I don't know - I'm sorry but I don't-" The redheaded girl was terrified, her eyes pleading. Jin avoided looking at her. He focused his gaze on the guilty boy instead, willing with his whole mind for the boy to act.

_Say it now. Say it or we'll all lose something we cannot get back._

He saw how Cole tightened his grip on the gun, and with a sinking feeling he knew it would all end so irreversibly differently than he had hoped and _what a waste _-

"I have your money!" The shout was full of fear and anger. The boy had finally found his voice. The gun in Cole's hand lowered a little, and Jin doubted the kids would ever know how close they had come to being shot.

"I - I know where the money is. Please, just stop this."

"Well, isn't this interesting!" Cole's short laugh was delighted, maybe even relieved he hadn't had to carry out his threat. Jin wouldn't place any bets for it though.

"Planned to live a rich life?" Cole chuckled. "You weren't going to share, were you?"

The boy's eyes dropped to the ground and that was answer enough. He had not told the other kids about the money, and again, Jin was not surprised. The boy stood rigidly among the others, but Jin could see how the distance was starting slowly to settle between them. Nothing as obvious as the others edging away from the boy, but their confused gazes were turning into astonishment and from there to resentment and anger. Jin knew the bitterness of betrayal all too well. After all, Cole had planned to smuggle the money on _his _boat, without telling him, without offering him a share, all the while knowing how desperately Jin needed every dime he could get.

"Ok kid, hand the money over to its rightful owner."

Jin almost snorted. There was nothing "rightful" in drug money.

"I - I hid it. It's not here."

Cole's eyes scrutinized the boy, and for a moment Jin thought the man would question the truthfulness of the confession. But they had searched the camp earlier, and the boy was not stupid. The others didn't know, therefore the money had to be somewhere else.

It seemed that Cole came to the same conclusion. "Where?" The short question could not be mistaken for a request; it was sharp and commanding.

"In the jungle. Not far from the bunker…there, there is this clearing, I - I buried it."

Cole's face rarely revealed anything important, and Jin had learned to watch his eyes instead. Now they were narrowing, the grey colour clouded. Jin knew the man was calculating his chances, on what to do next, how to get the money, and how to deal with the kids and Jin. _How to get rid of us. _

When Cole turned his eyes on him, Jin forced his own gaze to be as neutral as possible, meeting the man's hard stare without flinching. The steely eyes measured him, weighed his trustworthiness. Apparently Cole was satisfied with what he saw, or the man didn't have any other options, for when he turned his gaze back to the kids, the matter had been settled. _You're in this now. _Jin had read his look effortlessly. _Wait and you'll get your share, _it had promised.

The trouble was, Jin didn't believe Cole. He couldn't afford to.

"Alright, you better be telling the truth or…" Cole didn't have to finish the sentence; the gun still in his hands told the rest.

"I am!" The boy almost sounded hurt by the suggestion that he might be lying.

"Show me the place."

The boy didn't seem none too happy about his new role as a guide. "But - I -"

"You _will _lead me there or do I have to start shooting people? I though we were already past that." Cole was in his element, and Jin knew the man didn't believe for a second that he would not get what he wanted.

"Ok, ok. Yeah, I can - I can lead you there. No problem."

"Good." Cole smirked. "Jin, you'll stay here while we'll go treasure hunting." He did not take his eyes of the kids, when he started to give his commands to Jin. "Make sure our little friends continue to behave nicely. Use your gun, if you have to."

"Sure." The one word answer seemed to be enough for Cole, who stepped away from Jin, gun pointed towards the boy.

"Well, get moving. Time is money - literally in this case." The boy moved hesitantly, his eyes darting between his friends and Cole, as if searching for something. Only the black boy met his gaze, face…not quite sympathetic, but regretful. Clearly, no help was offered. The white boy's face grew resigned, and he stepped away from the others warily.

"You too." There was a brief moment of confusion, when Cole pointed the gun and his words towards the small kid - the one hiding behind his sister - and once again Jin was not surprised. Cole knew how to cover his back. "You're coming along."

This drew out protests that had been silenced, when the older boy had been forced to move. Jin watched as the black boy and the redheaded girl argued and pleaded, knowing it was all futile.

"No - you don't need him!"

"Oh, I'm afraid I do. Just a little insurance, in case our guide (brief nod towards the white boy), or you here waiting for us decide to do something stupid."

"No!" Jin could tell that the redheaded girl's fear was fast turning into panicky desperation. And people did really stupid things, when they were desperate enough. He should know; he was soon about to do one.

"This isn't negotiable." Cole's voice had that hard _no-nonsense _edge to it; he was close to losing his patience. The grip on the gun tightened.

Before either of them - Cole or the girl - had time to make the situation any worse, Jin marched to the huddled group of kids, grabbed the small boy forcibly from behind his sister, and pulled him away from her.

The girl's shout and desperate lunge towards her brother came a second too late - Jin had already inserted himself between the siblings, and without further ado, pushed the sobbing boy to their "guide". The older boy took the boy's small hand into his, murmuring something that might have been "it's alright".

Cole smiled. "You better be good now - as you can see, in spite of the passive face, Jin here do not possess infinite patience." The man took in the trembling form of the redheaded girl and added as in afterthought, "Do not worry honey, when I get my money, you'll get your brother back."

One last commanding glance towards Jin - _watch them! _- and then Cole was herding the boys away from the camp, to the beach. Jin and the rest of the kids watched them go, stunned silence hanging thick in the air.

Jin's stomach lurched, tension spreading over his muscles. He had carefully nudged the situation into the present outcome, and now Cole had left the camp and Jin was alone with the three kids. He had gotten what he wanted, and it felt too good to be true. Was fate finally on his side, or was it just spinning more traps for him?

_Doesn't matter. I cannot turn back now. _

He hadn't turned back since Mei had gotten diagnosed with cancer over a year ago. There was nothing left to do, but get enough money to help her get well again. This was his chance; he was not letting go of it. Not even if he had to kill Cole; not even if he got himself or someone else killed.

Jin looked at the kids in front of him, their young faces, so sad and terrified, clearly scared of him. Suddenly, he felt too old, too damaged.

_Maybe they'll have more chances on surviving this than I do. _And surviving didn't necessarily mean living - he knew that now. _Too late. Twenty years too late. _

Cole and the boys had disappeared from their view some time ago, and Jin reckoned they had about ten minutes head start. _Enough of this. _It was time to venture off the path, to take that exit.

"If I were you, I would hide in the jungle until this is all over."

He didn't look at their startled faces; didn't say anything else. With a deceptive calmness that didn't reach his mind, Jin walked away from the camp, heading for Cole and the money, never once looking back.

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_So our thugs aren't that loyal to each other…In the next chapter, we see how Melissa is doing, and what Daley, Nathan and Taylor are going to do now that they are "free". _

_Feedback is wanted and valued! I specially would like to know what you think of the "bad guys"; do they seem real? Which one is your favourite? _

_I try to update as soon as I can!_


	10. Chapter 10: Extreme Reactions

_Chapter 10: Extreme Reactions_

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To say that they were surprised, would have been an understatement of the year. They were way past surprised. At this point, between gagging on the sick pile of desperation and being scared shitless, there was just this numb disbelief that words like unreal and incomprehensible couldn't even begin to explain.

"If I were you, I would hide in the jungle until this is all over."

Nathan heard the words, but they didn't make any sense.

He watched as Jin turned his back on them, as the man walked away to the beach, watched him disappear into the darkness. All he could think was _what? _and _what now? _and _I don't understand._

For it couldn't be so simple - _God, let it be so simple _- that the man had just let them go, that they were free, no guns, no instant terror, no threats, no death -

It just couldn't be that simple, so easy as just walking away and leaving them be, and yet, the man had done exactly that. They were free. And Nathan was glad, so very glad and relieved that he felt like sobbing but - everything was still wrong and terrible, and the pile rushed up his throat - _God, Lex and Eric _- and he wanted it all to be over already, and then he was suddenly on his knees and gagging and vomiting, expelling everything he had to the wet ground, his throat and eyes burning, mouth gasping for air.

"Nathan?" Taylor's voice was coming from somewhere behind him, barely audible over the heaving and retching. "Nathan - are you…is everything…" But she couldn't seem to finish her sentence, and he could see her now, in the edges of his vision; she was hovering near him, uncertain and small and scared.

_Pull yourself together man! Right now!_

He had to pull himself together, he couldn't lose it now, _not now. _He had emptied his stomach already - his last meal had been hours ago, and it had only consisted of fruit and water - and now he was just heaving air. Nathan tried to get his breathing under control, tried to quell the lurching motions of his stomach, the overwhelming urge to just continue to vomit everything he had inside out of him.

He had to stop. He had to calm down. Nathan could feel his face burn with embarrassment and willed himself to stop. But everything that had happened was rushing over him and it was all horrible and too much.

"Nathan?…" Taylor moved closer to him, as if to touch his shoulder, but stopped before making the contact. He was freaking her out.

_Just calm down. You're scaring them. _

And then he realised he couldn't see Daley. Couldn't hear her. And that new wave of panic suddenly cleared his head, made him forget the uneasiness of his stomach, the smell and taste of vomit clinging to him. The knowledge that _she _was not ok, that somehow he had managed to lose her, halted his own breakdown moment more effectively than anything else could have.

As Nathan tried to wipe away the sour taste from his mouth with his sleeve, he was already pushing himself up and twisting around, searching. Taylor was looking at him with wide eyes, and behind her, - _thank God _- Daley was standing, motionless and quiet.

But any relief that Nathan had felt seeing that she was still there, that he had not lost her, was short lived, when he took in her still form, her rigid expression and blank eyes. He suddenly felt helpless, couldn't think of anything to say to her, anything at all.

_What do you say to someone who has just lost her brother?_

NO! Lex was not - he was not - not yet. They still had time, time to do something, time to fix this, time to make everything all right again. It was not over, it could not be.

"Daley, it's not over." He took a step towards her, but she didn't seem to notice. "Daley…this is not…" The words struggled to come out of his mouth as he stepped even more closer to her transfixed form. "It's not over. Daley-" Her eyes continued to stare into nothingness. Nathan didn't know, if she even heard his half pleading, half persuading words.

"Daley please, look at me." He put his hands carefully on her arms, felt how she was shuddering under his touch. She didn't look at him.

"I promise - I promise we will get him back." He squeezed her arms harder, battled his shaking tone to firmness. "We will get Lex back Daley. I promise."

At last, something flickered in her eyes, and then she lifted her face towards his, and the utter bleakness, the sadness in her squashed his heart, and he wanted to choke out _I am sorry _but couldn't.

Instead, he repeated again, "We'll get Lex back. I promise." In that moment, Nathan thought he would have probably promised half the Milky Way just to get her despairing expression to disappear and to stay gone forever.

"We'll get him back." Daley's voice was half a question, half a statement; a sweet sound to Nathan's ears.

"Yeah. We'll figure out a way to get both of them back. But you - we - need to pull ourselves together now before we can do that."

His words seemed to finally penetrate her shock, and Nathan could see how she struggled to breath evenly, how a new kind of resolve and determination gained ground in her. The fear and desperation was pushed back, and an urgency to act took their place.

Daley moved out of his hold. "We need to follow them." She walked past him, her eyes fixed to the direction Jin had went.

"Wait a minute!" Nathan quickly moved to her side, his hand grasping a hold of her arm again. "We have to think-"

"No! We cannot lose them!" Daley struggled to get out of his hold, but Nathan firmly held onto her. He couldn't let her rush headlong after the men.

"We won't lose-"

"Let me go! We have already lost too much time - we have to catch up with them!" Daley tried vigorously to pull herself free, and Nathan could tell that any minute now she would resort to punches and kicks.

"I know where they are going!" His shout stilled her, and she turned to look at him, but still, he didn't dare to break his hold on her.

"I know the clearing where Eric said he hid the money. They are going there." And suddenly it hit him that they were _all _going there, that Jin had left to get the money, he had to be following Cole to get the money, for it was the only reason that made any sense, but God knew if nothing made sense anymore anyway, and now they had to somehow deal with _two _thugs with guns, not just one, and he had no idea how they were going to do that.

"Daley - we just can't rush into this. We have to think this through."

She was shaking her head, before he had even finished his sentence. "We don't have the time."

"The man said we should hide." Taylor's voice rang out unexpectedly; Nathan had forgotten that she was there.

"_You _can hide, but I am not waiting for Lex to be killed!" Daley was furious.

"Daley, what are you going to do, when we find them?" He had to made her see that it wouldn't be so simple as just marching into the clearing and snatching Lex back. But as he was saying the words, he knew that Daley knew that - she just didn't care.

"Let me go." Her voice was low, serious, warning him. If he wouldn't let her go, she would hate his guts forever, never forgiving him. And he knew she was right; there was no time anymore to argue and hesitate. When Jin would catch up with Cole, the leader would know that everything had changed - that they were free, and that Jin had in all likelihood just betrayed him, and then Lex's life would be worth nothing. And even if they had all the time in the world to think it all through, he doubted that they could come up with any plan that didn't involve them rushing up to the rescue (and quite possibly to their deaths).

He let go of her arm.

Instantly, Daley started to jog towards the beach, and he hurried to catch up with her, not waiting to see if Taylor would follow them or not. As he stumbled in the darkness, trying to reach Daley's retreating back, he prayed that he hadn't just made promises to her that he couldn't keep.

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o

Melissa had waited forever.

She did not know exactly how long; it could have been half an hour, two hours, days and weeks, since Jackson had disappeared among the waves. Although it probably wasn't days, as the night had stayed dark and cold, but who knew, maybe the sun had also decided to go AWOL.

Jackson had been gone too long. But she would not think of that.

No, there were other things she had to think about, like how much drinking water they had back in camp, and how many fruits they still had in the food container (she remembered there had been some bananas left from breakfast and God she was hungry), and if she had any clean clothes, and whether she should do the laundry sooner rather than later.

Melissa was in the same spot she had last been, when she had still distinguished Jackson's form in the darkness. She was sitting now, sneakers buried in the sand, knees drawn to her chest, arms around her legs. For the longest of time, she had stood and watched the sea, trying to see him swimming back to the beach, but there had been nothing but the sea and the darkness, and her legs had gone numb. Jackson had told her to hide in the edge of the jungle, but she couldn't see him from there, and she had to watch the sea, the waves, for any minute now, he was going to stumble back to the beach, and Melissa needed to be there to catch him if he fell.

_Maybe he isn't coming back._

And yeah, it had been too long, but any minute now.

She shivered from cold, and drew her knees closer to her chest, trapping the bundle of his clothes tightly in between. Perhaps it would have been warmer, if she had walked little along the beach, but in the darkness she could have lost the spot, where he went to the sea, and maybe she wouldn't find it again, and so she couldn't really move. Melissa saw the dark bulk of the ship from her spot, saw the goal, but she couldn't see him. There were no lights on the boat.

And then she thought, maybe _he_ couldn't find the spot in the darkness, and why hadn't she thought of it before? Perhaps he had already swam to the shore, far away from her, and of course she had missed him then. He might be laying on the sand somewhere, maybe he was too tired to call her name, or it could be that he hadn't seen her at all, and he had went to look for her in the jungle, for he had told her to stay there. It could have happened like that.

_And maybe he isn't coming back._

She pulled her gaze from the ocean reluctantly, and looked to her right and then to her left, but the beach was as straight and even as it had been, when they had gotten there, no shapes, no bumps, no Jackson. The bay was empty, except for Melissa and the sand and the sea.

The wind had died down a little, its fingers just biting, and not bruising her skin anymore. But she couldn't tell for sure; the waves looked just as enormous as ever, and the ocean's roar drowned out the restless rustling of the forest. But the wind could be subduing, she felt it was, and then also the sea would calm down, and it would be easier to swim back. Maybe Jackson was tired, and he was waiting back at the ship for the weather to quiet down.

_He has been gone too long. _

And although Melissa couldn't separate seconds from minutes and minutes from hours, she was pretty certain that _the minute _had already went, and another after it, but maybe not, for she had no clock and you couldn't really tell time without a clock, and thank God she had no clock.

The dark clouds shifted again, letting the silver moon peek at the island. For a moment, the lines were starker, the shadows darker, and Melissa could see the ship and the waves beating its hull more clearly. There were no heads in the water, no floating bodies. The clouds shifted and veiled the moon. It was like shutters had been drawn around her; the darkness entangled everything in its grasp.

She had waited forever. She would wait forever.

Melissa pressed Jackson's clothes tighter against her chest, tried to somehow warm them, dry them, so he would not feel so cold, when he came back. But the fabric of his t-shirt and jeans were damp and cool, her skin too cold to heat them up. His jacket was heavy on her shoulders, water having soaked through it; nonetheless, she was glad he had given it to her.

_He is never going to wear it again._

It was just on loan; she would give it back to him to moment he came back.

The moon pushed through the clouds, suddenly so bright and round, and something/somebody rose from the water and was stumbling through the waves and _oh! _she was standing and running and maybe crying, and then she was dragging him out of the ocean into the beach and hugging him to her, pressing his cold (God, freezing!) wet body against hers and saying something that sounded like, "You're so stupid, God that was so stupid - don't ever - I was so scared! Jackson!"

He sagged against her, exhausted and weary, his body nothing but dead weight, and she struggled to hold them both up, but couldn't, and they went down in a tangle of legs and arms. She hugged him tighter.

Jackson was breathing rough and irregular; his heartbeat erratic against her chest - or maybe it was her own heart, beating wildly with joy and fear and relief.

"You were gone for so long - I waited forever and I thought…you were gone too long and I couldn't see you - I couldn't see you."

Melissa felt him struggle to draw air, but she couldn't let go of him, she couldn't, and his hands were wrapped around her tightly, his fingers burying into her shirt, bruising her skin. Jackson's head was pressed against her shoulder, his wet mob of hair plastered to her neck and cheek.

They stayed that way for a long time, she couldn't really tell how long, (for she had no clock) while the moon shone on them, and their heartbeats slowed down, and each breath was more easier to draw than the last. He shuddered, and his bare skin was clammy under her touch, and she remembered that she should return the jacket to him. _And his clothes! _

"Jackson - God, you're freezing." Melissa didn't want to let go of him, but he was shivering violently now, and she had to get him to warm up. "Your clothes - you have to get warmer, you're so cold - " She pushed, and he released his hold, and they disengaged from each other reluctantly. "I'll go get your clothes - put this on." She took the jacket off and draped it over his shoulders, and where the hell had she left his clothes? She spied the bundle of clothing further down the beach, sprinted there, grabbed the clothes and the sneakers and ran back to Jackson, who was still kneeling in the sand and had drawn his arms around his naked chest.

"Here - they are still a little wet and I - I dropped them in the sand, sorry, but it's better than nothing, I'm sorry." He took the clothes and his shoes from her, his hands shaking, and as he moved, the jacket slid from his shoulders to the ground.

"I got it." She stooped down to pick it up, and then just stood anxiously, watching as Jackson dressed slowly with uncertain fingers. She wanted to help, but didn't know if she should. As soon as he was done, she put the jacket back around his shoulders.

He had yet to say a word.

"Is it better now? I know, the jacket is still wet, but it keeps the wind out and you'll get warmer - maybe we can make a fire or get you some dry clothes, or do a little running and jumping and you'll get warmed up soon." Melissa knew she was rambling, talking aimlessly about things they both knew were out of their reach (dry clothes! fire!), but she couldn't stop. He was so quiet, so withdrawn, and he had finally come back, but something wasn't right at all.

She started to run her hands over his arms, over and over again, trying to rub some warmth into them. "Jackson…what's wrong? I know you're cold, but it's going to get better soon." She was starting to feel scared again. His was still trembling, the tremors travelled up and down his form and jumped to Melissa's own body, when her fingers made contact with his cool skin.

"Was somebody on the ship? Did you…? Did you find the radio? Did someone…?"

The halting, hesitant questions seemed to finally break through Jackson's stupor, and he lifted his head to look at her, his eyes clouded and his mouth drawn in a tight line. His laugh was short and manic and ended in a violent cough.

"Jackson…?"

"I failed - I…I tried to radio us help, but there was just that damn static and I - I called and called and I tried everything but I don't know if someone heard - no one answered back - I called but no one answered…" He sounded defeated and lost. "I couldn't - I'm sorry."

Melissa did the only thing she could; she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. "It's okay. You're here. It's okay." Somehow, she couldn't feel too disappointed that the plan had come to nothing, that no help was on the way for them. He had come back - _God he is alive - _and that was more than okay.

She was hugging him, he was here, it was okay, and everything else had to just wait their turn.

"How touching." The voice was deep and rough and amused, and it didn't belong to either one of them. Melissa's heart beat faster, and she felt how Jackson froze, and she didn't want to turn around, didn't want to let him go, and they weren't alone anymore.

And someone was standing behind her.

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o

_So, the reactions were a little extreme, but I hope they were still believable. What do you think of the direction the story is going? As always, I would like to "hear" your comments, suggestions, and thoughts!_

_In the next chapter, we see Mel and Jackson in some deep trouble, and catch a glimpse of Cole, Lex and Eric. _


	11. Chapter 11: Against All Odds

**Once again, I am sorry for the long wait! I am sure you are tired of the constant delays and I don't want to even start to offer any excuses. **

**Just - thank you all for your patience!**

o

_Chapter 11: Against All Odds _

o

Jackson had survived - and he had failed.

He had dragged himself from the endless sea into her arms; he was so tired and so cold, but he was alive. And he could not feel any joy about the fact. It had all been for nothing. He had failed. He had held their rescue, their help in his hands, it had been so close, and still, it had all been pointless. No one had answered his calls. They were truly alone.

He was alive, but he would not get back home. No one had answered; no one was coming to rescue them. His ears were still full of radio static. He could not let himself believe in the desperate wish that someone had heard him over the radio; he could not bring himself to hope again. The disappointment was too bitter, too hard to bear a second time. It was time to face the truth: he had failed them all.

Jackson could not look Melissa in the eye. She was so warm against him, her arms tightly locked around him, her hold unwavering, but she did not know yet, did not know that he had failed her. She was rambling that they needed the get him to warm up, and she sounded so worried about him, but she did not know yet. He took the clothes she brought and dressed, because her concern, her attention, was too much. She wanted him to be warm again, but he doubted he could. He had failed them - he told her so.

When he told her, she hugged him again, and he was too confused and too tired to protest that he did not really deserve it, and she was saying that it was okay, when it really wasn't, and he was too tired to cry, too tired to care anymore. He was cold.

And then he finally realised that they weren't alone in the beach anymore; one of the thugs had caught them unaware, was standing not two metres away from Melissa, holding a gun pointed at her back. The man had walked straight up to them, for Jackson had not paid _any kind of fucking attention _to their surroundings.

He should have been expecting it. _Nothing has gone right so far, why would it start now? _And God, couldn't this nightmare already end?

Melissa's heart thudded against his chest, and a small shuddering gasp escaped from her mouth. They were rooted to the spot, arms tight around each other, like deer in the headlights, frozen by fear, waiting for a crash that was inevitable. Jackson could see clearly the man standing behind Melissa, even his smirk was visible in the moonlight. The man was tall with broad shoulders, clad in dark jeans and a sweater, his hair cropped short. At first glance, just an ordinary man. If it weren't for the unpleasant look in his eyes, there would have been nothing remarkable in his face. However, meeting the penetrating gaze was something most people had the common sense to avoid; it was uncomfortable, almost cruel. Also, there was the small matter of the black handgun in his hand. Jackson felt their chances at somehow getting away from the situation diminish from miniscule to nonexistent.

"This fucking island is seriously overcrowded - any more people hiding somewhere?" The man's voice was gruff with annoyance, but still held the amused tone.

_Should I do something?_

The man had asked a question, but Jackson could not think of anything to say. He stood still, fingers clinging to Melissa's shirt, wanting so much to _not _to move. Melissa seemed as reluctant to let go as he was, and fleetingly he thought _she is afraid to turn around, _and he could certainly understand that. If they broke their hold on each other, if they moved, Jackson would have to face the situation, he would have to do something. And he felt too exhausted, too numb to even think, let alone to act.

_I don't know what to do. _

And he should have been panicking already, terrified out of his mind of everything that could happen next, but he couldn't seem to raise any energy to do that; his sluggish brain seemed quite slow on the uptake.

Melissa shifted and suddenly, her arms were withdrawing, she was backing away, and _now _he was panicking. For a second, he considered just holding onto her, forcing her to stay in her place, but she was already moving, and he was too slow and his fingers too numb to hold on. His arms slid aside, and at the last moment, when she was turning to face the man, he seized her by the hand.

She came to stand next to him, her hand squeezing his.

"My day is just getting better and better." The man levelled his gaze on Melissa, his cold eyes roaming slowly over her whole body. Jackson felt Melissa stiffen, and he couldn't blame her. Hell, now _he _was getting terrified out of his mind. He had to shake the numbness away, to somehow figure something to say, to do, for it had become terribly clear: there was no way the man would let them go unharmed or even alive. And the biggest threat wasn't against Jackson anymore - the man was focusing all too much on Melissa.

"Well? You're mute or something?" Jackson could practically see how the gears turned in the man's head, how he came quickly to the all too real conclusion that two shivering, miserable looking teenagers posed no threat to him, but were something he could toy with. "You're here all by yourself?"

"There's just us." Melissa sounded composed and calm, even when her body quivered with tension, and Jackson couldn't help but feel proud of her.

"I bet. Having a little romance in the moonlight?" The man was leering at them, his thin lips spreading into a suggestive grin. "I could think of a thing or two to do in a private, dark beach."

Jackson's anger was instant; the warmth it was spreading through his frozen veins and limbs a welcome tingling sensation. _What a bastard. _He hated the man fiercely, his helpless anger wiping the earlier apathy away, banishing the numbness he had been drowning on. _What a miserable bastard. _The man - and Jackson himself. For who else but he had dragged Melissa into this whole mess? Who had thought of the _brilliant_ plan to call for help, giving her in a silver platter to _armed fucking criminals _in the process. Jackson had led her straight into danger.

When it was obvious that they weren't going to respond to the taunting, the man sneered, "Alright, let's not waste time on small talk then. Straight to business - or fun, depending on which angle one looks at it."

_He is going to hurt us. _

_Oh God_, he had to think of something. Anything. He had led her to this, and now he had to get her out of it - he _had _to. Or he could never live with himself - that is, if he got out of this alive.

"Start walking." The man kept the gun aimed at them with his right hand and with the left pointed onwards where the beach stretched towards the far edge of the bay. "Go on."

Hesitantly, they started to walk in the sand, hand still in hand, side by side. Jackson was conscious of the man right behind them, his heavy breathing audible over the roar of the sea.

_Where is he taking us? _

"Where are we going?" Melissa's tone was oddly steady, lacking any obvious emotion. Jackson stole a quick look at her face; she was firmly keeping her gaze on the jungle ahead, her features too expressionless to tell what she was thinking.

"Not far. Keep walking."

The man was not lying; they had moved only about a hundred metres, when Jackson saw their destination. It made him confused and afraid in equal measures. They were approaching the wooden rowboat that was still tied to the palm trunk.

_Is he going to take us to the ship? _He tried to smother the bark of laughter rising in him. _I wish I had known; he would have saved me the trouble of the swimming trip. _

They walked to the boat, Jackson's heart hammering harder at each step.

"Alright, here we are." The man sounded cheerful as they all stopped at the edge of the jungle, right beside the boat. "Now, as sickeningly sweet as the holding of hands is - let go."

Melissa was the first to loosen her hold on him; slowly she drew her hand away. Jackson was cold.

"There is rope in the boat; fetch it and tie your boyfriend to the palm tree."

Jackson's thought process skidded to a screeching halt for one awful second; then the panicky thoughts surged forward with full force. _He is going to hurt her. _He had to do something, there was no time, and he could not let himself to be tied up - _I will not be able to help her _- he could do nothing if he was tied to a fucking tree, and he had to do something _right now_.

Melissa was already moving, and he watched helplessly as she slowly reached for the rope they had left earlier that evening at the bottom of the boat. He had never seen her face so timid. All too soon she was turning back to face them, holding the brown coil in her hands.

Adrenalin was starting to gather in his veins; he clenched his fists. _Not yet. _Melissa took a step towards them, looked at him - _soon _- and hesitantly stopped. The man shifted impatiently - _not yet _- pointed his gun to her direction saying, "Come here dar-"

Jackson lunged at the man, crashing into him with his whole weight, screaming "Run!", his only thought, _get the gun get the gun get the gun _-

Once again, he was fighting for survival.

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o

They were going to be there soon.

Despite the darkness and the thick jungle closing them off from the rest of the world, Eric knew exactly where they were. The bay and the bunker were close, somewhere to the left, hidden behind the untamed mass of greenery. However, they were steadily walking straight ahead, towards the clearing and the buried money. It was dark and damp and at the best of times Eric would have thought twice before taking this little midnight walk in the jungle, but he knew he would not get lost. He had the route memorised. And they were going to be there really soon.

He had no idea what he was going to do when that happened. Well, he had some kind of idea; if everything went well, he would have to do nothing. He would give the money to Cole, and the man would let them go unharmed. Or maybe they would end up somewhere tied up and possibly gagged, but he wasn't picky, he was going to accept anything that didn't involve death or bodily harm.

Cole wasn't stupid; why risk getting on death row for murdering teenagers (and _children_), when they could not tell anyone about his criminal activities or his tendency to take hostages? Although, they weren't in the US anymore, and hell if he knew to whom this island belonged to, and if they were big supporters of the capital punishment. Their bodies wouldn't be probably found till years later if ever at all.

_Okay, think something else - something positive._

Well, he was not alone.

No, he was not alone, because a sobbing Lex had been forced to come with them. The terrified ten year old was stumbling after him, still tightly clenching Eric's hand. And at the moment, as little as Eric wanted to be alone with Cole, he wanted even less for Lex to be there with them.

_I did not mean for any of this to happen. _

He had not meant to draw Lex into this; no, he couldn't have known that Cole would threaten the others and drag Lex along for the ride. And he hadn't meant to keep the silence about the money as long as he did, but he hadn't known what to do, and really, he had never wanted to endanger Lex.

They were nearing the clearing, and with a bang Eric remembered that at that very day he had sat there, dreaming of what he would buy with the money. It was still the same day, or maybe the early hours of the next day, but still, that moment in the clearing was a lifetime away. Everything had started there; he had heard the men and thought (what a laughable thought now) that they were finally being rescued. He wished he had never heard them, never ran straight to them like a world-class idiot.

He wished for a lot of things.

He wished he had never stumbled upon the bunker, never found the money and never took it, never boarded that plane to Palau. He wished himself at home.

_Nothing I can do about that now._

Regrets and guilt would not help him; he had to be calm and just go with the flow until a better option presented itself.

Suddenly the humid, almost suffocating vegetation parted and they stepped to the clearing. Eric stopped and draw a deep breath. Cole walked a small circle, examining the place, his gun and attention never leaving his hostages. Then the man came to stand in front of Eric, a satisfied expression on his face.

"So this is where you buried _my_ money." Again the sharp emphasis on the word _mine_, making Eric grit his teeth. "Start digging." Cole's tone was commanding, and his gaze settled hard on his reluctant companions. "The faster you dig, the sooner the little boy here gets back to his sister."

Eric disentangled himself from Lex's hold carefully, wanting to say something reassuring to the boy, but he couldn't think of anything that wouldn't come out as an obvious lie. He wanted to say that they were going to be fine, that soon Lex would be with Daley again, and nothing bad was going to happen to him. The only truthful thing struggling to come out of his mouth was the desperate _I am sorry_ his mind was whispering. But saying that would be admitting that he was at fault here and maybe he was, but he couldn't - not now -

So he said nothing.

He walked to the crooked tree that had died standing, withering and rotting away until all that was left was the hollow trunk and dry, lifeless branches. He dropped to his knees to the ground and without further pause dug his hands into the wet soil.

No sense in delaying the task; the sooner it was done the better.

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_This chapter was a little shorter than I intended, but I figured you wanted the new chapter sooner rather than later. In the next chapter we see how Jackson fares against Larry and what happens when Eric digs up the money. So, good stuff ahead!_

_As always, I crave for your reviews!_


	12. Chapter 12: Collision

_Chapter 12: Collision_

o

The fight was over quickly.

Before he desperately lunged at the thug, Jackson had gone over their options - to comply or to fight - and the decision had been fairly easy one to make. He could not let himself to be tied to a tree, and most certainly he could not let Mel get hurt. It was as simple as that, and so, _fight! _it was. Of course, it did not mean that Jackson believed for a second that he could actually beat the man.

Jackson was a realist. He had been in his share of fights, usually just standing up to himself, but also sometimes initiating them; he knew how to pack a punch. However, even if he hadn't been half dead with cold and exhaustion and shock already, he still couldn't have won this one. The man was just too big, too strong, and obviously had way more experience in beating people into bloody pulps than he did.

So he had no great expectations about the outcome. His aim was to distract the man, to get the gun away from him, and to buy enough time for Melissa to get as far away from them as she possibly could (preferably off this island and to the other side of the globe - but he could settle _anywhere _that was not _here_).

Between the decision to fight and the act itself, there was no time to think, and as Melissa looked at him, he stared back, his heart hammering wildly, and he was wishing that she would somehow know - and perhaps she did, for she hesitated and stopped. Time did not pause, in fact it rushed forward, and Jackson could not let himself think what he was going to do, how much it was going to hurt, how everything would go so wrong, but concentrated on the man, on Melissa, on the gun; seeing and hearing as the man shifted and pointed the gun at her and said something -

And he knew _now _was the right moment.

Jackson crashed into the man with his whole weight, his hands striking against the man's hold of the gun, and then the black object was flying in the air and disappearing from his vision and his mind, for they went down, and he pulled and punched desperately, trying to stay on top, trying to pummel the man deeper into the sand.

His fist collided with the man's cheek, and he had a brief moment of gleeful satisfaction until he found himself on his back with the man looming on top of him, and his head spun and there was a sharp pain in his gut, and his chest exploded as more punches rained upon him in quick succession.

Feeble kicks did him no good, and his arms couldn't push the man away, his fists couldn't even get a grip on the man's hair, and he was losing too quick, he couldn't get away and the man was yelling something, but there was a roar in his ears drowning everything else but his heartbeat bounding -

"- shit! You little shit!"

He bent his knees and pushed his legs with force against the man's chest, and he must have hit something pretty vital, for a moment the man halted and -

"Fuck! I'll show you -"

He had no time to move, no time to think anything but _have to get away_, and then the pain erupted everywhere at once and he couldn't breathe - _why couldn't he breathe? _- and his panic and fear gave him strength to push and hit, but the man was a rock and Jackson couldn't breathe and the man's large hands were crushing his throat, and there were bright spots dancing in front of him, and he knew _this is dying _-

The fight was over quickly.

One moment Jackson was suffocating, lying in the sand helplessly while the man strangled him, and in the next moment the pressure from his neck was gone and although it hurt to draw breath, he finally could, and as everything was spinning he drew breath after breath not knowing what had happened and not really caring, because he could _breathe _and he wasn't dying anymore.

All too soon reality crashed in, as he realised that something was weighting him down, pressing his legs and half his chest to the ground, and he found that he couldn't really move as everything hurt and there was something, _someone?_, holding him down.

"Jackson?!" He knew her voice. "Oh God, Jackson -"

_Melissa. It's her voice._

He had been fighting and then he had been dying, and it was the man who was pinning him down, but the man was a dead weight and did not move or try to strangle him anymore. And what the hell was she doing here still?

"Jackson!" She sounded more scared and panicked than he had ever heard her, and they really had to get away now. He tried to move and something sharp cut through his lungs, but they had no time for this, and he pushed and shifted and half crawled out under the man's crushing weight.

There was a sick pile in his stomach, but Melissa was calling his name again and he struggled to get some words out, and he really had gotten his ass kicked, hadn't he? And why was he not dead?

"Okay, I - yeah - I'm okay, I'm good -" And as he tried to reassure both her and himself, Jackson twisted around, still on all fours, and the man lay - God, not a meter away - lifeless, something dark smearing the man's whole forehead, running over his closed eyes and across his cheeks.

"I -" There was a peculiar note of astonishment in that one word she uttered, before falling silent again. He dragged his gaze away from the man, and turned his eyes on her and couldn't help but flinch -

Melissa stood rooted in her spot, her eyes wild and her hands tightly clasping a wooden oar. Her gaze darted to the man and then to Jackson, returning almost immediately to the man again. _She hit him with the oar. _His realization was strangely just a statement, a matter of fact, and he felt too much to feel anything.

"We need to get away from here." Willing his pain and everything else away, but his overwhelming need to be somewhere else, he pushed himself up and with shaking legs took a step towards her. "We have to go now." His voice was urgent, and she heard him and threw the oar away, and it sank with a thud to the sand, right next to the man.

He reached for her hand, without sparing a glance to the body.

"We have to go."

And his urgency took hold of her, and she grabbed his hand and was moving away, dragging him along, and although everything hurt and ached he followed, not looking at the man. She started to run and he ran with her.

They were getting away.

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o

She couldn't go with them, so she found a nice place the settle herself in, far enough to be hidden, but close enough to the camp to be not lost.

Taylor was not stupid. Before leaving the camp, she had took her sleeping bag, her warmest sweater, a water bottle and the rest of the fruits from the food container with her. Who knew how long she would have to hide, and she was already cold and hungry. Why not make herself as comfortable as she could?

So the sleeping bag and the sweater were tightly drawn around her, she was munching a banana, and the water bottle was half empty already. She was comfortable. She was okay. And if her shivers wouldn't stop no matter how warm she got, or if her heart bounded faster with each small rustle from the surrounding jungle, and if she hated the darkness more with each passing moment, none of it could hurt her anymore. She was far away from the men, from the camp, from everything. She was okay and she was alone.

The others - they were somewhere out there in the darkness. Nathan and Daley were heading to the clearing, where Eric and Lex probably still were being held hostage, and Jackson and Melissa were somewhere hiding. Only Taylor was alone, curled up into a ball beneath the thick canopy of dark leaves. They hid her from the world, and they hid everything from her. She could not see the sky.

Her thoughts were jumbled; a mix of fragmented memories and heartfelt wishes and sharp nightmarish visions of what was to come, all cutting deep. She had wanted to go with Daley to get Lex, she had wanted to follow them, but in the end, she had _not _wanted it too much. She just - couldn't.

They didn't need her there; she would only be in their way. What could she do against the men? What use was she? They didn't need her support or anything else from her. It was better, if she was here, hidden and safe. Nathan and Daley would rescue Lex and Eric, and they would come back to the camp, and everything would be as it was just a day ago. Everything would be fine.

So, any minute now, she should reign in the hysteric sobs that made her chest ache. Stop the tears that made her sniffle, made her nose run, her vision blur, and smudged her face with wetness and snot.

She couldn't.

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_Finally._

The boy had dug the wet soil with both hands, and just as Cole had been getting impatient (the little kid's dark eyes, huge and scared, were staring at him), the boy had pulled the familiar plastic bag from the hole. His money.

The whole situation looked suddenly a lot better, and Cole couldn't help but grin. He was back on track again, he had his money and soon he would have his drugs, and in no time, he would be off this island and sailing into the metaphorical sunset.

"Here it is. I - what do you want -" The boy was now standing with the bag in his hands, looking as unsure as he sounded.

"Give it to me." Cole's voice was more sharp than he intended, but his patience was running short with the boy, and he really wanted to have his money _fucking right now_.

The boy walked to him, managing to cover the ground between him and Cole briskly, but at the same time succeeding to look as hesitant and reluctant as one being held at gun point only could. Cole felt the corners of his mouth tug upwards. The boy definitely had some skill. He had lied to Cole with a straight face, had managed to withhold the knowledge about the money even when Cole had questioned the kids, and had only spilled the beans because of the threat to shoot the little kid's brains out. The boy had obviously withheld the money also from the other kids. The boy had potential; Cole was sure that in a minute the boy would be trying every trick he knew to persuade Cole to let them go.

He was right. As soon as the bag was in Cole's hands and he had looked in it, carefully calculating its weight and content, coming into the conclusion that all of the money was still there - the boy had assured he had not touched the bills, as if Cole would believe a word he said - and the begging started. Cole had always really hated this part of the gig.

"So…I did as you said and - and you have the money…" The boy began, backing off from Cole, towards the small kid, who had watched all that had happened, silent and still, with those damned scared eyes.

"You can just leave us here and I swear we will not get in your way, we'll stay here or if you want we can go somewhere else…" The boy was standing right in front of the little kid now, and Cole would have been amused at this futile attempt at protection, if he hadn't been so _glad _he couldn't see the kid's eyes anymore.

"I don't know if I really should." The words were meant to be taunting, but as he spoke them, Cole realized that he didn't really know what to do with the boys. Or any of the kids for that matter.

"But you promised to let us go free." The boy sounded offended, as if Cole had just hurt his feelings. It irked him.

"No, I didn't. I only said that the kid would get back to his sister." In his lifetime, Cole had promised a lot he had never intended to keep, but not to these kids.

"What - what are you going to do to us?"

_Ain't that the question. _

Cole had never enjoyed pulling the trigger. He could do it - he had done it - but he didn't get any particular pleasure from it, not like Larry. Leaving the kids here at the island would save his bullets and he would have five less bodies to look back on. The option had its merits - and pitfalls. If the kids were ever found, they could expose Cole to the authorities, and even if he was long gone by then, his face would be printed in numerous papers and databases; a thing he really wanted to avoid.

_Your taking care of things better involve putting a bullet to their heads. _Larry's opinion on the matter was clear, and although Cole didn't consult Larry - or anyone - on how to run his gig, he knew he would have trouble with the man if he would just let the kids go. _And further trouble I could do without_.

He didn't need the little bastards anymore. Maybe it was time to start safeguarding his back. For if Larry was right about something, it was about not taking any chances of getting caught again. He couldn't afford it.

"Drop the gun." Jin's voice was quiet, but it cut through the darkness like a knife, unexpected and sudden.

Cole froze. _You little betraying bastard. _The Asian was standing in the right side of the clearing, half way between Cole and the boys. His gun was pointed at Cole, his hands unwavering and face impassive.

"Drop the gun. I'm not going to ask again."

Cole hesitated, going through different options, but knowing he really didn't have any other choice but to comply; Jin was a professional and would shoot him the minute he even twitched the wrong way. Cole dropped the gun.

"Kick it away."

Cole kicked the gun and it slid a view meters away from him. He recognized the all consuming rage that ignited and intensified inside of him. No one would take his money. No one.

"Boy!" Jin addressed the older kid, but didn't take his eyes off from Cole for one second. "Go take the money from him and bring it to me."

As the boy started once again to move hesitantly towards Cole, the two men locked gazes, one showing he was in charge and the other promising bloody retribution.

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_We are nearing the end! Only three more chapters to go - so things are really unravelling. In the next chapter, a shot is heard in the night…_

_I want to wish very warm and peaceful Christmas to you all, and also happy New Year! _


	13. Chapter 13: Death in Darkness

**Author's note: **I cannot express how sorry I am to leave you waiting for a whole month for an update. I certainly planned to post this chapter earlier, but do to some difficulties in real life, it just got postponed and postponed. But here it is at last! Hope you enjoy it :)

o

_Chapter 13: Death in Darkness_

o

_Oh my God. Oh my - _

Something wet struck her in the face, like a whiplash, but she kept pushing through the vegetation, not daring to stop.

_He was going to - going to kill - I had to - oh God -_

She was half running, half stumbling along, her only thought the urging need to get away from that beach, away from that man, who was now lying motionless, bleeding from the head -

_Did I do that? But he was going to -_

The jungle was dark, and Melissa had no idea where she was going, other than that they were going away from that man, and that Jackson was behind her, his hand was in hers, and she was practically dragging him along.

_He was going to kill - did I - did I?_

She was so tired, her breath was coming out in hard painful gasps, but they couldn't stop, the man might be following them - he had been so lifeless - might be chasing them, and they had to get away, they couldn't stop, couldn't -

A sharp tug at her hand and Melissa was falling down, crashing down to the hard ground.

There was mud in her mouth, and her heart beat widely in her chest, the blood rushing in her ears, drowning all other sounds and _why had they stopped?_

Her right hand was twisted painfully backwards, something relentless hanging on to it, and the sudden rush of memory - _Jackson! _- left her gasping for breath. She turned awkwardly around, crawled forwards, and squinted her eyes in the darkness. Her eyesight was oddly blurry, but she could see his shape right in front of her, their hands still joined.

Jackson lay on the ground, his laboured breathing wheezing loudly.

_Was he hurt? _The haze of overwhelming panic thinned, and for the first time Melissa realised the shape Jackson was in - and the state she herself was in. They couldn't go on anymore. They were both too tired and _God, he could be really hurt and I did not notice_.

"Jackson? Are you hurt? Jackson!?" She winced at her own voice - it was shrill and sounded too scared and loud amid the rustling jungle.

To her utter relief, Jackson raised his head from the ground, looked at her, and managed to say between hacking coughs, "I'm good - I - have to stop…can't…"

"Okay, we'll stop, we should hide and wait until -" Melissa had no idea what they should wait for. Who was going to come to their help? What was their next plan? She did not know.

"Yeah, hide." Jackson dragged himself to his knees, and Melissa found herself mirroring his deep, slow breaths. Her breathing grew more regular, and she felt some of her control over her own body return. They would hide. They could do that. No one was going to find them. She looked around for a good hiding place and realised with horror -

"I don't know where we are!" It was dark and the jungle was everywhere around them, and she couldn't remember in what direction she had begun to run from the beach.

"It's okay. We'll just wait for daylight." Jackson sounded calm, and she couldn't help but marvel at his nerves, for not long ago they had been at the beach and the man had - and she had -

"It's okay. We're okay." He repeated and squeezed her hand, and she tried to swallow her tears.

"There - let's go over there." He pointed to his left, where the jungle seemed more impenetrable, and she followed him as they stumbled the few meters that took them under a thick canopy of twisted branches. Melissa collapsed to the ground, drained. There was no strength left in her.

Jackson sat beside her, leaning his head to a tree trunk, his eyes closed.

"Jackson…you're sure you're not hurt? It - it looked really bad when -" She couldn't finish, the image of the man beating and strangling him fresh in her memory.

He was quiet for awhile, and Melissa guessed that his thoughts were also back on that beach, and what had happened there, not so long ago. When he spoke, his eyes stayed closed. "I'm fine - I mean it hurts like hell and I'll have some nasty bruises but - but I'll live."

"Do you - do you think I killed him?" _I think maybe I did_.

More silence, then just a whisper "I don't know."

There really was nothing they could say after that. Melissa felt relieved and horrible at the same time, and she did not want to cry, she would not cry, but she had - the man had been so motionless, and bleeding from the head and _she _had done that, she had took that oar and hit him and there had been this crack and a thud, when he had fallen to the ground.

_I will not think about it_. She closed her eyes, and tried to think of other things, happier things, something else, _anything else_.

The shot echoed through the jungle, loud and sudden, and she startled violently, her whole body twitching. No sound came from her mouth, but everything in her was screaming _please god someone fired a gun shot somebody please please_ -

_please don't let anyone die_.

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o

Lex knew a lot of things. How to built a durable shelter, how to scan radio frequencies, how to design an obstacle course and get people to participate. He had won his school science competition - twice, and had gotten the highest marks in all the math tests.

His classmates didn't really like him. They either ignored him for he had no social standing in the school hierarchy of importance, or they tolerated him because he could help them with their home work and was no threat to anyone. They were not his friends - but it was okay. Lex understood why it was so, saw the barrier his age and intelligence created, and did not blame anyone.

Besides, Daley had been there, first as a new big sister and then also as a friend, and now he had five more friends. He had helped them to built the best camp he could, and he was fairly sure that they liked him.

Lex knew a lot of things that he had picked up from books and documentaries and from just listening to people talk. However, he did not know how to get _this _to stop. He did not understand.

The men had come to their camp and had threatened them with guns. They were after the drugs and the money, and Lex knew that there were people who wanted those kinds of things and did bad things to get them, but he could not understand why they had to hurt others. Why they had to make Daley and the others cry, and why they had to take him away from his sister? Couldn't the men just leave them be? They hadn't done anything bad. At least he hadn't done anything bad - but he had found the bunker and had led the others to it and maybe that way it was all his fault.

He wanted the men to go away. He wanted to get back to Daley. He did not want to die.

Eric had dug up the money and now the man had what he wanted. The man had promised that Lex would get back to Daley as soon as he got the money, and Lex really wanted to leave now.

He tugged at Eric's hand, to tell him that they really should go now, but then there was another man in the clearing, pointing a gun towards the leader, and _this _became even scarier. He still didn't know what to do.

The Asian ordered the leader to drop his gun, and the leader did, and then he had to let go of Eric's hand, for the Asian was telling Eric to bring him the money. Lex did not understand why the money was so important that people wanted it so bad they pointed guns at other people, and he was afraid that the man was going to shoot them.

He stood and watched as Eric walked to the leader, and the leader gave him the plastic bag looking really mad, and he just wanted to run away, but the Asian would see it and then point the gun at him. Lex didn't like being pointed with guns. In television, the heroes always mouthed off to the criminals who were going to shoot them, and it didn't feel anything like this at all. But they had fake guns, and Lex knew that these were real, although they looked the same, and he could not say a word.

Eric walked to the man and gave him the plastic bag, and then started to come back to where Lex was standing, and he was glad when Eric grabbed his hand.

"It's okay." Eric's voice sounded gruff, and he could tell that Eric was afraid, but still the words made him feel a little better.

He stood so close to Eric that their sides brushed together, and he watched as the Asian man clutched the bag in his left hand, and the gun in his right, and what was going to happen to them now? A small smile spread to the man's wrinkled face, and as his eyes shifted to the bag, the man looked happy.

Something moved in the corner of his eye, and he turned to watch the other man - the leader - and it happened so fast that he could barely register that the man was drawing a gun from the small of his back and then there was a loud cracking sound, so loud it hurt his ears and the Asian man lay on the ground.

Eric shifted and started to move, dragging Lex with him, but the leader turned the gun on them and they froze, and it was hard to breath and hard to see through the tears that blurred everything.

"Stay where you are! The party isn't over yet."

The leader walked towards the man on the ground, and Lex did not want to watch, he wanted to close his eyes, wanted to leave, wanted Daley so badly, but he couldn't take his eyes of the man on the ground. The man looked so small and he must have been hurt really bad, for he made these horrible croaking sounds and his hands tried to clutch at the bag that had fallen beside him, but he couldn't reach it, couldn't move, and Lex knew the man was hurt badly.

Eric's fingers dug deeply into his palm, but he didn't mind. Vaguely, he realised that he was sobbing hard, felt the tremors shaking him, could hear his own wheezing mixing with the man's, and _somebody _had to help the man, for he was hurt and had to be helped, but it could not be Lex, for he couldn't move and he didn't know what to do.

The leader stooped over the man and picked up the man's gun that lay next to him on the ground, and tugged it into the waistband of his jeans.

"Jin…I have to say I am kind of disappointed in you." The leader's voice was even and impassive. "You know…I would have shared the money with you."

The man on the ground grunted painfully and tried to move. There was a large dark spot in the front of his shirt, like a stain from a spilled coffee, and Lex could see it grow bigger and bigger.

"Shame really." The leader looked down at the man. "But more money for me - I have no objections against that."

Lex jumped as a loud bang invaded the clearing, and the man slumped like all air had been drawn from him and he did not move anymore. The shot continued to echo in his ears, but everything else was still and silent around him, and the man's eyes were open and staring at him.

Lex knew the man was dead now.

The leader picked up the money bag without even glancing at the dead man, and there was an awful grin on his face that made Lex shudder.

"Put the gun away." Lex's heart stuttered hearing Daley's voice, and he turned at the same time as the leader did, and _Daley! _was standing behind them, she had come for him, was really there, and Lex tried to stifle his cries for everything would be alright again.

He tore away from Eric's hold, and dashed to Daley, but before he could launch himself on her, someone grabbed him and he struggled and kicked, trying to get to Daley, before he heard breathless words - "easy Lex, it's okay, settle down" - and recognized Nathan's voice. He did not understand, but he obeyed and stilled in Nathan's arms.

"You're going to shoot me honey?" The leader sounded amused, but he was standing still, almost as motionless as the dead man by his feet.

Only then did Lex notice that Daley was holding a gun pointed at the man, and he felt sick in his stomach and what if the leader shot Daley like he had shot that man?

"I want you to leave. Take your money and leave us alone." Daley's voice shook, but she was holding the gun steadily, and her whole attention was on the leader, and Lex hardly dared to breathe.

"You know how to fire that gun?" The leader stared at Daley, his words sinister. "It's not a little girl's toy."

"I know enough. Leave and stay away from my brother. Stay away." Lex knew that tone of voice. It was Daley's I-am-determined-to-do-this voice, and he was in awe of her bravery, but he was also so very afraid.

It seemed that the leader also recognized that particular tone of voice, for he snorted under his breath and lowered his gun, and with slow movements put it behind his back, under his shirt. Then he raised his hands towards them, his fingers empty of the weapon, but still holding the plastic bag.

"You have some balls there darling." The leader grinned his approval, and then continued, "Don't worry, I'll be leaving now with the money. Keep the gun - you might need it one day."

"Don't come back." Daley's voice was serious.

"Oh, believe me, I don't intend to." The leader's eyes strayed to the dead man, and as if sensing Lex's stare, the cold eyes turned to look at Lex, and he had to shift his gaze to the ground.

"Sorry about the mess. But no harm done." The man turned then and without looking back strode away from the clearing, disappearing into the surrounding darkness.

The man was gone.

Daley dropped the gun to the ground, and Lex was already halfway there, and then he was hugging her, squeezing her middle, and it was going to be alright, for Daley was there, she had come for him, and was squeezing him right back.

_It's okay now_, she said and Lex believed her, for she had come, and her arms shielded him from the eyes of the dead man, who continued to stare at his back.

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_This chapter was hard to write, for I was not sure about Lex's voice. I tried to keep in mind that although he is a genius, he is still just a frightened child. I also deliberately made his narrative a little confusing to follow, for in that situation he doesn't register everything that is happening. For this reason, it was maybe a little hard to keep track of all the guns. So just to be clear: Jin had one gun, and Cole had two. Cole dropped the gun he was holding when Jin ordered him to, put he had another one hidden at the small of his back. The gun he first dropped was the one Daley later picked up. _

_So, what we'll have in the next chapter? Things are coming into closure, and we'll see how well Cole took the latest turn of the events. _


	14. Chapter 14: Turning Away

_Chapter 14: Turning Away_

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The sound of the second gunshot had been more terrible than the first. The first time the loud crack had echoed around them, it had scared him to death. It had been totally unexpected, and when he had realized what it really meant - _someone fired a gun - _a sick bile had formed in his throat. But the second gunshot…

It had been all the more horrible, had sickened him more, because Jackson had been waiting for it. Heart beating wildly, hands fisted so tightly he could feel his nails tearing the skin of his palms, he had listened to the silent jungle, waiting for that gunshot and praying he would never hear it. For firing a gun once - that could be an accident, or an act of intimidation, or just a warning shot. Firing twice, with some time between, that was deliberation. That was shooting because there was a target.

Jackson's mind conjured up images of Lex, Taylor, Daley, Nathan and Eric, all bloody and unmoving and dead.

"Oh - oh God…" Melissa sounded like she was going to be sick. Her breathing was abnormally loud in the stillness after the gunshots.

"Do you think - who did - was someone - maybe it wasn't - " She was almost hyperventilating, her voice small and scared.

He wanted to tell her once again that everything would be alright, wanted to reassure and comfort, and pull her huddled form against his own shivering body. However, he couldn't form those words, and couldn't move his arms to draw her closer. Through this entire hellish night, Jackson had tried hard to convince himself and Melissa that they would be alright in the end, that they _all_ would survive this. He had held on to that hope through the swim to the boat and back, even through the fight with the thug, and he had not been disappointed - he and Melissa were still alive. Granted, they were more or less wounded physically and mentally, but God, they had managed to stay alive.

Someone else hadn't managed the same. The two gunshots had shattered his belief, had destroyed every thought of a happy ending. Someone was dead. Nothing would be alright again.

"What…what are we going to do now?" He could feel her eyes on him despite the covering darkness, her expectant gaze itching under his skin.

He had no answers to offer to her. What could they do? What could _he _do? Jackson had no plans, no idea how to act next; he was useless and someone was dead.

Melissa was still waiting for him to say something, and he couldn't even look at her. What did she want him to say? He couldn't speak, for he couldn't offer false promises anymore. He couldn't pretend that everything would be alright, couldn't lie to her that he knew what to do.

Jackson was so tired; all he wanted to do was sit there, resting against the rough bark of the tree, and close his eyes and sleep. Forget where he was, how he had become to be there; forget himself. If only he could.

"Jackson?…"

_I don't know what to do anymore._

His whole body was aching, his lungs still burning from the fight and the mindless flight from the beach. Every muscle in him hurt, and around his throat there was a pair of phantom hands squeezing.

Jackson kept his eyes open. It would not all just go away, if he willed it so. That had not worked when he had been a kid, and it certainly wasn't going to work now. He had tried so hard, but in the end, no one could ignore the world forever. It always got you. First with the plane crash, then with the people he had come to call his friends, with the girl that had this uncanny way of looking straight into him with those dark eyes. He had been screwed the very day he had arrived at Hartwell.

"What should we do? Maybe they need our help?" Melissa was persistent.

_I'm so sorry - I don't know what to do. _

"Should we go…find them?" She had no idea what to do either, but this burning desire to help, to somehow make the situation better, and Jackson had to once again marvel at her willingness to think of others before herself. _Someday she is going to get hurt - hell, she has already gotten hurt._

"Maybe we should-"

"No." The word came from his lips sharp and forceful.

No more rescue attempts. No more running around. They were done with it all - it had to be over for them.

"We're going to stay here." They would not move from that spot until morning, if even then. They could do nothing, but wait and stay alive. Jackson would be damned, if they rushed to another dangerous situation ever again.

She was silent for a long moment, and the soft "okay" released the breath he had been holding. If she had insisted on going…

Melissa shifted and settled closer to Jackson. Their arms brushed, and he could feel her breath on his face, when she tilted her head to look at him.

"Okay," she repeated, still so soft and careful, like the world wasn't ending, like someone, someone they knew - loved - wasn't dead. Her voice, unbearably gentle, clenched his heart.

He couldn't say anything to her in return, but he did put his arm around her and pulled her closer.

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Daley was shaking all over, so relieved and unbelieving that the man had left, that she had really threatened him with a gun, that it had worked and they were not dead. She just couldn't stop shaking.

_I can't believe I did that._

She still felt the sick desperate fear, could hear the gunshots echoing in her head, mocking that she was too late. _I was not! Thank God I was not - _Everything that had happened after she had stepped into the clearing had happened under a strange haze, her hand holding the gun steady, although she had already been shaking so hard, the hot anger for the man who was threatening her brother strong and burning.

_And Lex - Lex -_

Lex was sobbing hard, his arms tight and bruising around Daley, his face pressed against her chest. She was holding him with equal force, not daring to let go. His shuddering sobs tore at her heart, and she had to remind herself that he was safe now, that she hadn't been too late - _I was not! He is alive, breathing, crying -_

"It's okay now, everything is okay, I'm here and you're safe and everything is going to be okay…" Daley mumbled an endless litany of reassurances into his ear, hoping to sooth him, to make them both believe that the nightmare was finally over.

Lex didn't seem to acknowledge her words in any way, but she went on whispering comforting nonsense, rocking him, trying to stop the sobs from breaking loose from her own throat.

"Shush now, it's okay, I'm here, not too late not too late…" _Alive, breathing, crying -_

"Daley?" She barely heard Nathan say her name, but she heard it, and for the first time in a long while, she wanted to ignore him. _Not now. _She just wanted to hold her brother, bask in the relief of not-too-late, and the rest of the world could wait.

"Daley?"

"We have to go now!" Eric this time; impatient and almost terrified.

Daley forced herself to lift her head and to take a look around her. Eric was standing at the very edge of the clearing, half turned towards the jungle, casting furtive glances back at them, nervous and more than ready to leave. Nathan was standing close by, holding the gun she had dropped earlier - _couldn't hold it anymore, cannot ever again _- carefully in his hands. The dead man lay in the middle of the clearing.

They had to leave, before the leader changed his mind and decided he wanted to kill them after all. They had to leave, before the image of the dead man would burn into their minds irrevocably. _It already has._

"Daley, we have to go." Nathan's demeanour was calm, but his eyes were anxious.

He was right. She had to get Lex away from the clearing, away from the dead man, away from the rest of the thugs. It was not too late.

"Okay." Her consent dissolved some of that worry in Nathan's gaze, and she could practically feel Eric's unvoiced _Finally! _

Without wasting anymore time, Daley turned away from the clearing to follow Eric, who was already stepping into the dark maze of palm trees, when Lex whimpered and tightened his grip on her.

"It's okay. I'm not letting go, just move with me. We have to go now." She squeezed her brother, and felt Lex nod against her chest, and then they were walking awkwardly, clinging to each other, their movements halting, but neither had any intention of letting go.

Daley felt slightly better, when they were finally in the jungle, leaving the clearing behind them, Eric leading them deeper into the forest, Nathan guarding their backs. She didn't ask where they were going - not back to camp, that was certain - and she didn't really care. As long at it was somewhere far from the clearing, somewhere safe - _no place is safe _- she would gladly walk all night and the next day, if she had to.

She had her brother back. She hadn't been too late.

Everything else was not worth thinking of.

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o

So, things had not gone exactly the way he had envisioned.

Still, everything was good. Not the kind of good Cole had originally planned, but the kind of where things could have been a lot worse, but because of some miracle (and his skills) they weren't. Cole had took the risk, and it had been Jin and not him, who had gotten that bullet in the stomach. Cole himself was alive, had his money and was finally leaving the damned island and those irritating brats behind.

_And fuck if I ever come here again._

It had been too close; first Jin and then the girl. Cole hadn't been surprised like that for a long time. He had thought he knew where everyone stood, and the uneasiness that came from being proved wrong was still coiling inside him. He had underestimated them and their desperation and willingness to put everything at risk. Cole still didn't fully understand Jin's motivations; the bastard had never seemed the type to backstab for pure greed, not because he was particularly loyal, but because Cole had thought that Jin had been smarter than that. Backstabbers were always stabbed right back - or in this case shot.

Really, how could Jin think that he could just take Cole's money and get away with it? The man had walked into his own death. Hell, Jin had practically pulled the trigger himself.

The girl on the other hand… He hadn't foreseen that her love for her brother would override the fear. Not many people were willing to face death even for their loved ones. Sappy and stupid, but still kind of impressive. He could have shot her, and the others. He almost had. However, Cole always thought his own interest first, and he hadn't needed to create a new mess, where there was even the tiniest possibility that everything would not go to his advantage. The girl could have had balls to fire the gun, and by some crazy change actually hit him.

Cole had gotten his money. He had almost everything he had came for.

_Almost._

He had walked to the bunker, hoping to meet Larry, who should had had everything ready for the transportation of the drugs. Instead, he had faced an empty bunker, where there had been no signs of preparation of any kind. The place had been just the way they had left it earlier; dark and damp, the drug packages piled against the wall, and next to them, the sport bags they had brought infuriatingly empty.

Cole had not been pleased.

He had no time for further delays, the morning was fast approaching, somewhere on the island there was a psycho girl with a gun, and he really could not miss his appointment with his creditors, scheduled for _tomorrow_ _night._ And according to his watch, it already was a freaking tomorrow. He was hours behind his schedule.

Cole should have never hired Larry; he had known the man would somehow fuck up. Apparently, he had to do every single thing by himself. _Even those brats are more competent than that fucking moron. _

What seemed like a hundredth time that night, the plans had changed again. But if anything, Cole was a fast thinker and a realist. He had to minimize the damages. There was no way he could get the drugs of the island on time; the clock was ticking and he was one man short. So in the end, with a heavy heart, he had put the money in the bottom of one of the bags and then filled it with as many drug packages as it could hold. The rest of it, he had to leave behind.

_Well, at least there is a bunch of teenagers, who'll put it all to good use. _

And yeah, Cole wasn't a vindictive man, he really wasn't, but he was satisfied to know, that those brats would rot in the island for a long time. The place was so far from any shipping charts that no one would stumble upon it on purpose or even by accident. They could play Robinson Crusoe for the rest of their (short) lives.

The bag was heavy, its handles digging into his palms, but Cole would not let go, would not rest. He was carrying his future, literary his life in his hands. He would not let go of it now, nor would he give it away. Larry would not get his promised share of the drugs, which was entirely the bastard's own fault. In fact, the profit from the packages Cole had managed to take with him together with the money just barely covered the sum he owned.

He would not be having any deep sea fishing in the near future. It was clearly all Larry's fault; he would deal with the son of a bitch soon enough.

In fact, the man already looked half done, when Cole arrived at the bay. Larry was leaning against the rowboat, cursing profoundly and nursing his head. His face was streaked with dark blood, and Cole couldn't help but wince in sympathy. Head wounds were always painful bitches. He wondered, who had had the good fortune to smack Larry in the head.

"What the fuck happened?"

Larry seemed to only then notice Cole's presence, and raised his head with difficulty, eyes hazy with pain. He opened his mouth, but Cole was quick to interrupt his rant from the start. "On second thought - I don't want to know. We are leaving now, so get your act together."

Cole watched as his words slowly sank into Larry's mind, how the confusion and displeasure became evident in the man's bloody face.

"Where's Jin?" Larry grunted, peering into the darkness as he expected Jin to appear at any second.

"Not coming. He had an accident." Cole's voice dared Larry to inquire further. Wisely, the man didn't.

"What about the drugs?" Larry's eyes fixed to the bag Cole was still holding.

"No time to load them." Cole moved to the rowboat and put the bag carefully under the seat. "Untie the boat."

"I'm having my share-"

"No!" Cole moved with a deadly speed and pinned Larry against the rowboat, his breath hot and angry and right in the other man's face. "You fucking got hit on the head and didn't do one goddamned thing I told you to do - you have no right to anything. And thanks to you, I am not getting my share either." Cole didn't shout, but his voice was all the more menacing for its composed tone. "Now, I did manage to get few packages, and if you are a good boy, you just may get one of them, when this is all over. Do you understand me?"

God, Cole wanted so badly to just put a bullet to Larry's head, but the time wasn't right for that; he needed help handling the ship. He squeezed Larry's arms a little harder, and the man grimaced and grunted with pain.

"Do you understand me?"

"Yeah - fuck - I get it." Larry's eyes closed in defeat and pain, and Cole felt a little better. He let go of the man and watched as Larry stumbled and tried to stay upright.

_Fucking waste of a bullet. _

"Untie the boat."

This time, Larry followed his orders without complaint. In no time, they were back in the ship, the engines running, the metallic hull turning away from the island. Returning back to the real world.

Standing at the bridge, Cole fixed his eyes to the slowly brightening horizon. His mind was already going through new plans, new opportunities and possibilities. He had survived; he always would. He was not particularly worried. Everything would work out just fine in the end.

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o

_So, the thugs have left the island, and our heroes are still more or less in one piece. _

_Next time - the final chapter!_

_As always, I would very much like to read what you think. _


	15. Chapter 15: Out into the Open

_Chapter 15: Out into the Open_

o

The morning finally came, after a long dark night.

Despite the gunshots still echoing in her ears, despite still seeing the man's face frozen to a horrible bloody mask, somehow Melissa had actually managed to fall asleep for a couple of hours. The sleep had been restless, but mercifully without any dreams; a black pit thick with fear and guilt. When it had morphed into nameless and faceless men, dragging her and Jackson down into the sand, drowning them, she had woken up with a start, heart beating fast and furious, for a moment not knowing where or when or how.

Jackson's arm had tightened around her, and she had remembered everything. She had felt like crying then.

They had sat huddled together, waiting for the sun to rise, not talking about what they should do, what would happen next. With almost fervent anticipation, they watched as the jungle turned from dark shadows to brilliant colours, as the light started to penetrate through the leaves, painting everything in the shades of green and gold. Melissa thought she had never seen anything so beautiful.

In the light of the new morning, she felt a little better. The sun couldn't make the thugs miraculously go away, but it could banish the darkness for a little while at least. It also brought much needed warmth back into their bodies; their clothes had never really dried - the damp fabrics stuck to their clammy skins, cooling their already cold bodies further.

In the sunlight, Melissa also got the first good looks of herself and Jackson - and they truly did look like they had been to hell and back. Jackson's face was dotted with bluish bruises, his lip split, hands clotted with dirt and specks of dried blood. His t-shirt was torn at the hem, and the shirt together with his jeans was covered with sand and mud. It was the sight of his neck though, that made Melissa wince in worry and sympathy. The angry red marks were a sharp remainder of how close to death they - _he _- had really been. How close she had been to losing him - not to another girl, but to something far more terrible and permanent.

Melissa promised herself then that whoever he chose, whether it be her or Taylor or someone else, _this _would always be the real gift - Jackson breathing and speaking to her - and now that she knew what a real loss looked like (_the man's hands around his neck, squeezing, his eyes closing_), she would be fine, if he loved someone else, she would accept it, and although it would hurt (_God it would hurt-_) it would not really be a loss of any kind, except her stupid fantasies.

They sat still quite a while, enjoying the warmth, oddly hesitant to speak even the simplest words. It felt good to be warm again, and it felt even better to feel his thigh against hers, their shoulders touching. Melissa soaked up the comfort as much as she soaked up the sun and almost regretted, when she finally opened her mouth. However, they needed to decide what to do next; they needed badly some kind of plan on how to continue onwards.

Neither one of them wanted to leave their small shelter under the canopy of palm trees to roam the island, where they could stumble upon the thugs. Neither one of them wanted to think, let alone discuss, what had possibly happened to the others. What the gunshots had meant. Who had been shot, and whether the man they had fought had died (by _her _hand).

In the end, it was the overwhelming thirst that overcame their fear and forced them to leave their hiding place. For if they were to survive, they needed food and water. That had to be taken care of first, and the rest would have to wait.

Carefully, listening to every sound around them, they started to make their way towards their water source; the precious spring that had really saved all of their lives in the early days, when they had still been struggling with the basic needs in the new environment. They were only alive because they had found water, and now Melissa and Jackson had to find that place again.

Luckily, the jungle looked completely different in the sunlight; settled and familiar. It didn't take long for them to get their bearings and figure which way to go. Jackson in the lead, Melissa directly behind him, they mediated a speed that was between running (they wanted to be there _now_, back in some kind of shelter) and creeping (they could not be heard, could not be found out).

During the whole journey to the water spring, Melissa watched the surrounding jungle with almost paranoid attention; seeing the thugs in every moving shadow, hearing them in every rustling sound. She prayed that the luck would be on their side, that they would be left alone, for they were both so thirsty and hungry and tired and _defeated _- and for a moment she was truly afraid that they wouldn't have the strength to fight back anymore if it came to that.

To her utter relief, it did not come to that, and they arrived safely to the water spring - only to find out that they were not the only ones seeking to quench their thirst.

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After an utterly miserable night in the jungle, things were finally looking better. The thugs were gone - _they had to be gone _- and they were all in one piece, and soon everything would be back to normal again.

Really, it was all good now in Eric's book. Lex was fine, a little scared and shocked maybe, and still clinging to Daley as if his life depended on it, but nothing bad had happened to him. Eric had taken care of him, when it had been just the two of them with Cole, saying soothing things and holding his hand, and if that had also been for his own benefit, no one had to know. The point was: Lex was alive and with Daley again, and Eric didn't deserve the cold shoulder and sharp looks Daley had been giving him since they had settled down to wait the sun to rise.

And okay, he had messed up when he had hid the money, but how had he been supposed to know what would become of it? The important part was that it was all over now; the men were gone (_please let them be really gone_), they were all fine (_he would not think of the dead man_) and while they had no idea, where Taylor, Melissa and Jackson were, Eric was certain they were just hiding somewhere, waiting it out, as they themselves had been not a short while ago.

He felt like he had just survived another plane crash, but this time around he knew what to do afterwards. They had to get back into the swing of things, go back to camp, get some food and water and a nice fire going, some clean clothes and a lot of rest.

Eric had put his point across relentlessly to Daley and Nathan, when they had discussed what their next step should be. Of course he had been ignored, but finally the leader and her consort had decided that they needed water and therefore, they should all head for the water spring. And yeah, his throat was parched and he couldn't even remember, when was the last time he had gotten a drink, so he had followed them without a protest.

Eric could always go his own way if he wanted, but for now, it made sense to be with the others. Not that he was afraid anymore, for the men had almost certainly already left and the island was as deserted as it had been on the day they had crashed.

They had easily found the spring and had hastily put their cupped palms under the clear fresh water, gulping it down in record time, enjoying the soothing coolness in their mouths.

Eric was on his fifth round, when Jackson and Melissa stumbled out of the surrounding thicket with a crash, looking dazed and half dead. Things were a bit chaotic after that.

"Oh God you're alive!"

"You're okay, thank-"

"We were afraid you-"

"No we are all fine I am so happy-" Everyone seemed to be talking at once, and Melissa was hugging Lex and Daley, and then Nathan grabbed her to him, exclaiming how relieved he was, and Jackson grinned like crazy and the ugly bruises on his face made him look like a maniac (and what was up with those?), and Lex had disentangled himself from Daley and was now hugging Jackson and saying,

"I knew you'd be fine! I knew it-"

And then Mel was suddenly squeezing the life out of Eric, and God, there were tears in her eyes, and he felt something huge unfastening inside him, a tight pressure he hadn't even known he had been carrying until it fell away, and for the first time in what seemed like forever he breathed properly again.

It had only been a few minutes, when their current numbers seemed to sink into their heads (_not seven but six_), and Jackson was the first to ask, "Where's Taylor?", followed immediately by Melissa's frantic inquiry, "She isn't - oh God is she - is she gone?" It took a moment for Eric to realize that she meant _dead_.

"No, she's fine - or as far as we know she's fine -" Nathan was quick to reassure, and Daley continued after him, "She didn't come with us, but I'm sure she is fine, she was okay…"

The answer seemed to appease the pair, who definitely looked worse for wear, and Eric couldn't help but ask, "What the hell happened to you two?"

Melissa and Jackson traded quick glances, before Jackson shrugged his shoulders and answered, "Nothing much. We saw the men and hid, and then later stumbled upon one of them and had a bit of a fight - but we're okay."

Jackson's voice was steady and his eyes didn't shun from the curious looks directed to him, but Eric knew that there was more to the story. It seemed that Daley agreed with him, and she was already opening her mouth to demand details, but was interrupted before she got any words out.

To Eric's surprise, it was Melissa, who turned the tables by firing a string of questions to them.

"And what happened to you? How did you escape? Did they let you go? Where - do you know where they are, are they-" Her voice was hoarse, and it broke into a dry hacking cough. Jackson took her hand and drew her next to the spring, gesturing to her to drink. As she took her first sips of water, Nathan started to tell what had happened. Eric grimaced, when he got to the part where the money had become an issue, but luckily Nathan didn't delve further into Eric's newest screw up.

As the story progressed, Melissa and Jackson were sufficiently horrified by Cole taking Lex with him and amazed by the resulting showdown in the clearing.

"So the gunshots we heard…" Jackson left the rest of the sentence unvoiced.

"The leader shot the other man. He - I think they were fighting over the money."

_His name was Jin, _Eric thought, oddly irritated at Nathan's words. _He has a name. _

"We came there just after it - Daley - Daley was amazing, she threatened him with a gun and got him to leave." Nathan turned to Daley and gave her an adoring look that made Eric want to roll his eyes. _So we are back to puppy love. _

"I - I just had to do something, I didn't think." Daley returned Nathan's look with as much fervour, holding Lex tightly by her side.

"And he just left?" Jackson sounded sceptical.

"Yeah. He got the money, said he would not come back - I believe he was serious."

"Well, there's one way to be sure." Jackson looked determined. "They have a ship in the bay - the one near the bunker. We have to check if it's still there." Melissa didn't look too pleased about the suggestion, and Eric could definitely share her disquiet. He didn't have any desire to walk straight into a place, where they knew the men could be, where they were keeping their boat for God's sake -

"It's the only way we're going to be sure." The silent _and not live in fear anymore _flashed briefly in Jackson's eyes, only to be covered by a stubborn look soon after. Nobody said anything, and just as Eric was thinking, _I for sure won't be volunteering, _Jackson said, "Look, I'll go and you'll wait for me here-"

"I'll go with you." Melissa surprised Eric again, her voice quiet but earnest, her hand hovering near Jackson's, as if she wanted to grab him, before he had a chance to go without her. And the two had been friends before, but _when did they become joined in the hip?_

"No - stay here Mel." And as she was ready to protest, Jackson added with a softer tone, "Please stay here. You don't have to go back there." And there was something behind the words that only Melissa could hear, could understand, and she nodded her defeat.

"I'll go." Nathan spoke up and lifted the hem of his shirt, revealing the black handgun tucked into his pants. "We'll have this if there's trouble."

Jackson and Melissa both stared at the gun, and even Eric, who had known it was there, had seen Nathan put it there, was a little fazed. They had a real gun. _That's one hell of an addition to our survival kit. _

"Okay, let's do it. Stay here until we come back." Jackson and Nathan moved to leave, but Melissa's question stopped them in their tracks.

"What about Taylor?"

Jackson turned to her, and again Eric had the distinct feeling that there was something going on beneath the seemingly normal looks and words, as Jackson answered "We'll find her when we're sure the men are gone."

Melissa's small smile followed Jackson's and Nathan's retreating backs, before her face morphed into a sad expression. Daley was already looking anxious. Clearly, it was going to be a long, unpleasant wait. Eric did the only thing he could; he prioritized.

"So…how about some food anyone?"

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o

One would think that the fear would disappear, when the object of dread is proven to be gone. It is not that easy. The body and the mind remembers, and even if one's new mantra is _there is nothing to fear_, they will tell you differently.

The body stiffens whenever someone comes unexpectedly near it, the presence of the other too sudden and too close. Through every ache and strain, the body remembers the violence inflicted upon it. The ugly marks, black and blue and turning to yellow, are there for all to see, so they will know the same - something that has happened can always happen again.

Bodies can be broken. The flesh is soft and the bones are brittle, and the blood will flow away if there is nothing to contain it. They have an example of this in their backyard; two bullet holes in a flesh fast decaying.

The mind remembers all of it, and it won't shut about it. It tells tales - _true stories _- how one held a gun in one's hands, ready to pull the trigger, how heavy the oar was and what kind of noise it made upon impacting the skull. _It's not murder if there is no body_, but sometimes the mind doesn't believe that. The intent to harm is all that matters.

_There is nothing to be scared of anymore, _and yet, the smell of fear is still ripe in the air. There's no forgetting what true helplessness tastes like, either. The body freezes, when the mind reminds it how it felt to be hold in place against one's will. It wants to run, when told what it was like to stay quiet and hidden, waiting in the rain, waiting in the darkness, waiting alone. The body shivers, when the mind recalls over and over again, how cold it had been, how cold the ocean was when one went under it.

They won't talk about these things.

One cannot skip daily routine on a deserted island in favour of a survivors' trauma group meeting. Water and food has to be collected, their provisions stocked to last through another crisis. The fire has to be rekindled, dry firewood salvaged, and the damp and muddy clothes have to be changed and washed. Cuts and bruises have to be tended quietly, without any fuss.

And if at the first sight of the sun going down, of darkness approaching, they gather in their tent, it's because they are exhausted, ready to rest at last. All of them in the same small tent, back to back, side to side, because it is warmer that way.

And because the fear won't disappear, but it lessens, when there is a hand one can hold onto.

FIN

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o

_So, this was it! I can't believe it's over. Firstly, I want to **thank all of you**, who have read the story, especially those of you, who have reviewed - you have motivated me to write better and faster. _

_I hope you enjoyed the last chapter - I didn't mean to finish on such a downbeat tone, but the last section kind of wrote itself. I know that there are many issues that were left unresolved, not least the whole Melissa/Jackson/Taylor triangle. I made a decision to not go into it in the last chapter, for I felt I couldn't do it in a satisfactory manner - I felt it didn't fit in this story. However - I fully intent to resolve those issues in another story. That's right, I am planning a small **sequel**!_

_The sequel will tell how the seven will deal with all that happened to them, and how the relationships and they themselves have changed. I will post it later this spring, when the final tests in my school are over. _

_Once again, thank you all, and have a nice warm spring! _

o

© Kirsi Rönnqvist

August 2006 - March 2007


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